The Games We Play
by Pareathe
Summary: YAOI TezRyo Eight years after Ryoma Echizen entered his first US Open, Tezuka becomes a pro himself. His goal is to play Echizen again, but both players discover that more than just their skills have developed over the years.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** The plot is mine; the characters are not. And I have no beta reader, and I suck at self-editing. That should cover all the warning bases.

**The Games We Play**

**Chapter One**

_Right corner…_

Eight years. That's how long it had been since he'd watched Tezuka-buchou play a match in person.

Ryoma snickered. Old habits died hard apparently. Tezuka wasn't his captain anymore. Tezuka Kunimitsu was a pro now, and a rookie at that. Ryoma allowed himself a moment to enjoy the irony of that fact. Perhaps his former captain would call him "Senpai" when they faced one another on the court once again.

_Left corner…_

Right, like _that _would happen.

"_Don't get careless, Echizen."_

Years had passed, yet he couldn't get those unnecessary words out of his head.

_Right corner…_

A lingering annoyance crept into his mind. What had taken Buchou - _Tezuka_, he reminded himself again - so long? His own first US Open appearance had earned Japan a blip on the world's talent radar.

_Left corner…_

Once the connection between the illusive Nanjirou Echizen and him was finally made public, scouts and sponsors alike began flooding the island country. Previously unknown school tournaments became internationally televised events; mispronounced names poured from sportscasters' lips on ESPN; agents collected young players like coins.

_To the net, and drop._

"GAME AND MATCH. RYOMA ECHIZEN - SIX GAMES TO LOVE."

As the crowd chanted his name above his head, Ryoma groaned. Don't get careless, huh? What a joke. Still he walked to the net for an obligatory handshake, forcing a shadow smile as he thanked his so-called opponent. The poor guy seemed more like a victim. The stupid bastard had acted as though he'd already lost before Ryoma sent him the first serve. Unfortunately the number of such players was increasing with each match Ryoma won.

He had his rivals, of course. Not every game was a massacre. He'd even lost a few over the years. And there was always Kevin, who'd single-handedly talked him out of retirement and buying a one-way ticked back to Tokyo more than once. Kevin was indeed an incredible player and a worthy adversary, among other things.

But now, now things would get really interesting. Buchou had finished high school and four years of college between Germany and Britain, or so Ryoma had heard from various sources back home. And now Tezuka Kunimitsu was doing the only other thing he could do, the only thing Ryoma knew his ex-captain was born to do. Buchou was here, in the States, in this very arena, about to make his professional debut. Ryoma didn't care that they were only playing exhibition matches for the benefit of the sponsors over the next few days.

Buchou had finally arrived, and soon they would have their turn once again.

As he gathered his gear and entered the arena's breezeway, that overwhelming sense of destiny unfolding made Ryoma's skin prickle, his muscles tense, and his pulse race with anticipation. Tezuka's match would begin in less than an hour, and no creature within heaven or hell would keep him from witnessing Buchou's perfected skills from the closest possible vantage point.

"Hey, Ryoma!"

Ryoma blinked himself out of his reverie just in time to brace for the collision of a deceptively slim body much like his own against his back. An arm twined around his shoulders, yanking him back and forth.

"Kevin…"

Kevin grinned. Although the shaking stopped, the blond player left his arm draped across Ryoma. "So was that loser as bad as he looked?"

Ryoma sighed. "Worse."

With a laugh, Kevin shrugged. "That's okay. We'll consider it a practice match. Your first real match is tomorrow, right?"

Ryoma stiffened slightly; his inner fire roared to life. He turned his head just enough to catch Kevin's blue gaze. "I'm taking that one too. Since it's just you."

Kevin chuckled again, this time next to Ryoma's ear. "Take it if you can."

The fire became an inferno, and Ryoma muttered, "Fine." He twisted out of Kevin's grasp, grabbed him by the collar, and drug him out of the hallway. His companion offered no resistance as Ryoma pulled him into an empty changing room. Ryoma slammed the door shut, then pushed his long-time rival against it with equal fervor.

Kevin tipped his head slightly down as Ryoma leaned in, earning him an impatient growl. "You're unusually fired up today." Kevin raised a brow. "Especially since the guy you played today sucked so bad."

Ryoma shrugged and pressed himself into Kevin even more. "You started it."

Kevin acknowledged the truth with a shrug of his own. "And if someone comes in?" Kevin asked, although his tone revealed the closeness was taking its toll on his self-control.

"This is L.A., and we're not movie stars. Nobody cares what we do."

Before Kevin could respond, Ryoma grabbed a handful of blond hair and forced Kevin's head up. He kissed Kevin hard and fast, melting the previous conversation into nothing but a kaleidoscope of physical sensations.

After all, he didn't have time to waste if he was going to make it to Tezuka-buchou's match.

* * *

Tezuka grabbed another water bottle and walked away from the television in the players' lounge. His expression remained stoic as he headed for the warm-up court. At the same time his mind went over every disappointing minute of the previous match.

Echizen had won that game without even trying. Tezuka felt disturbed by the dull glint he'd seen in Echizen's eyes at various intervals during the match. The twenty year old prodigy had actually looked bored until he was walking off the court. It wasn't the first time Tezuka had seen that expression on the boy's face over the past eight years.

That win meant nothing; most probably didn't. Tezuka recognized that with painful clarity. Tezuka had watched every televised match Echizen played. Every single one. He'd even managed tickets to Wimbledon twice during college. Even during those tournaments, Tezuka could only remember seeing Ryoma's old fire burst to life twice. Both times were during the finals. Both times were against Kevin Smith, the one player in professional tennis considered real completion for Ryoma Echizen.

As he dropped his gear onto the bench outside of the practice court, Tezuka's jaw clenched. He had been among those who spurred Echizen toward the pros, and he suspected his encouragement had tipped the scale in the end. The once insolent youngster had a habit of limiting his own potential in those days. First he only saw his father, then Tezuka himself, and then players within the shores of Japan. Even after Echizen's first match against Kevin Smith, the boy had still only thought of the Nationals. His reaction after learning he'd been entered as a wild card for the US Open proved that.

Unfortunately Tezuka realized too late that, with the possible exception of Kevin Smith, Echizen's potential exceeded the current level of professional tennis as well. But that would change soon. _He_ would change it, with his own hands.

The wait had been excruciating. Still Tezuka had fulfilled his obligation to his family by finishing high school in Japan. Afterward he'd kept the promise he'd made with himself to go to college. He'd continued to play tennis no matter where he went, and there was no shortage of scouts hovering around him all the while. The rewards of his time in Europe showed in his game, he knew. Europeans rarely displayed unusual techniques in their play styles, but their sheer power and forethought could be overwhelming to an unprepared opponent. Tezuka had learned a great deal from such players.

He finished stretching and grabbed his racket. He started with light strokes, then increased his pace until he fell into a comfortable rhythm. Tezuka resolved not to disrespect his first opponent as Echizen had. He would give his all in each and every game, just as he always had. He would once again lead Echizen by example from the outside, and then he would face the younger man himself.

Tezuka tightened his grip on the racket. Their game would take place in three days. In three more days, he would experience firsthand what Echizen had become over the past eight years. And he planned to reciprocate to the paramount extent of his abilities. Even beyond them in necessary.

He sent a sharp backhand toward the wall, watched it ricochet toward his face, and caught it in his hand inches from his nose. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost time for his own inaugural match.

He packed up his racket and shouldered his bag again, forcing thoughts of Echizen from his mind for the moment. Instead he focused on the path ahead - the hallway which led to the main courts, the crowd he could hear clapping as his opponent's and his names were announced, the perfect line where shadow and cement ended and sunlit grass began.

He entered the arena to thunderous applause. Tezuka ignored the noise and headed for his bench. He propped his bag and pulled to rackets out, leaning the spare against the bench as well.

He stood straight as the National Anthem played, bowing his head briefly in respect upon its conclusion.

Then Tezuka sensed someone staring at him. Not just any spectator either. No, this was an unspoken, soul-shaking challenge. It had been years since he'd felt such pressure, the imposing stroke of that golden gaze upon his consciousness. He lifted his own gaze to the bleachers. In front of him, aligned with the net, was one of the VIP boxes.

He stood in the corner closest to Tezuka. One hand rested in the young man's pocket, the other held the brim of his cap, and a genuine, albeit minute, smile graced his lips.

_Echizen._

As the crowd settled, Tezuka allowed himself another moment to look his former team member over. Echizen was still shorter than most male players, but not by much. The definition in is exposed arms and neck testified to the training he'd endured to hone his natural athleticism. And his eyes…his eyes _burned._

No words needed. Tezuka simply nodded once.

He definitely would not lose this match. Nor any other over the next three days.

Echizen jerked suddenly, and his eyes went wide for a second. Tezuka blinked as a blond man appeared from behind Echizen, waving emphatically.

"Yo, Tezuka! Long time, no see!"

Tezuka's brow creased. Of course, Kevin Smith was participating in the exhibition as well. However, the American player appeared so suddenly, and in the same box as Echizen…

Kevin continued to wave, but his other hand appeared as well and ruffled Echizen's hair. Then the hand hooked over Echizen's left shoulder. Tezuka frowned at the evident familiarity, particularly since Echizen made no attempt to reclaim his personal space. Echizen just rolled his eyes as Kevin, still smiling and holding on, leaned in and said something into ear. Then the two sat down. Echizen raised an eyebrow in Tezuka's direction and gestured toward the net.

"Mr. Kumitisu," the judge called, and not for the first time if the exasperated tone was any indication.

Right, the match…

Tezuka ignored the variation of his name. "Yes, I apologize for my rudeness," he said in English and bowed low to the referee. Then he repeated the apology to his opponent, this time in the man's native French. His opponent looked taken aback, but offered his hand and a grateful smile a moment later.

Not since Seigaku, since Kikamaru, who'd drape himself over any willing body during Junior High…

Tezuka once again had to force himself to focus on the game before him instead off thinking about Echizen's strange behavior. Besides, he'd already promised not to lose.

"Let's have a good match," Tezuka said.

* * *

**A/N:** I just posted on my LJ today how I wouldn't put this up before I finished it. Old habits really do die hard, I suppose. I blame my muse and my inner attention whore. They've conspired against me. Really. 


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I just finished the first chapter a few days ago. Why am I already writing the second installment? Hell if I know. And I realized too late that I didn't give the guy-with-guy warning on the first chapter. My bad.

Is it just me, or has upload tool become much less user-friendly over the past few years? I must have uploaded and re-uploaded that first chapter five times before I finally got it right… I guess I'm just an old-timer. Or I'm just exhausted.

**Chapter Two**

"GAME AND MATCH. KUNIMITSU TEZUKA – SIX GAMES TO ONE."

The spectators exploded into applause. Tezuka took a deep breath and wiped his brow. It had been a good game. He allowed himself a moment to absorb the victory into his mental playbook, into the core of his being as a tennis player.

Tezuka wouldn't drop a single game the next time he faced this Frenchman.

After the obligatory handshake, Tezuka's gaze turned upward toward the box at center court, almost against his own will. At the same time it seemed the only place, the only person, to look at in the entire arena. He saw Kevin first. The blond jumped up and down, both arms in the air. Then just as quickly they came down around Echizen's body, pinning his arms and jolting him back and forth as well. Amazingly Echizen kept his balance without even taking his hands out of the pockets of his shorts. He even appeared to lean into Kevin's chaotic movements.

Tezuka ignored the confusion that clouded his mind. He just needed to speak with Echizen properly. Then Echizen could explain his companion's behavior as well as his apathy towards it.

Suddenly Echizen's chin lifted and exposed his eyes from beneath his cap, and all speculation about Kevin Smith fled Tezuka's mind. Echizen didn't show any signs of pride or excitement after watching the match. His expression revealed only frustration, his desire to face Tezuka himself still unfulfilled. The depth and purity of his passion scorched Tezuka's resolve. Despite his own past advice, his desire to battle with Echizen quantified, and he let the fact be known as he returned Echizen's needlepoint gaze.

Echizen's lips curved in agreement, but his eyes remained fixed and fierce.

_As they should be…_

Tezuka finally walked back to his bench and packed up his equipment, but before he could go any further, reporters swarmed him. Cameras blocked everything else from his periphery. He sighed but showed no other external sign of the impatience he felt. He was an unknown, and he'd just won his first game against a seated player. Deferring to the whim of the press was expected.

He answered each question thoughtfully, honestly, and in turn. His manager looked as ecstatic as a German man could when he appeared next to Tezuka fifteen minutes later. At that point reports backed up and prospective sponsors moved in, numerous hands reaching out to greet him and toss out business cards and marketing ideas to his manager.

After what seemed like an eternity, Tezuka cleared his throat and sent his manager a questioning look. The man flashed a thumbs-up, so Tezuka excused himself and headed for the locker room. He showered and changed quickly, wanting to waste no more of the three hour break allowed before afternoon matches began. More than likely he would find Echizen in the members-only restaurant on the upper deck with the rest of the players on the day's schedule.

Tezuka finished dressing, ran one hand through his damp hair, and grabbed his bag in the free hand. He slung it over his shoulder and reemerged into the hallway. Hopefully finding Echizen wouldn't take too long.

"Buchou."

Tezuka halted in mid-step. The voice behind him sounded deeper than he remembered, even though he'd seen a live interview just a few months ago. But there was no mistake. That voice did indeed belong to Echizen.

Tezuka turned as a more familiar whisper-soft chuckle followed. "Sorry, I know I shouldn't call you 'Buchou' anymore. We are both pros, now."

The older man stiffened for a fraction of a second Echizen's stress on the word "now" sounded more like 'finally' to Tezuka. It seemed Seigaku's former superstar freshman had not outgrown his impatient streak.

"We are," Tezuka agreed, "so you will forgive me if I don't address you as 'Senpai' in return."

Echizen stood with his hands in his pockets and his legs crossed; his back rested flush against the wall. He lifted his chin off his chest until his head rested against the wall as well. Then Echizen rolled his head until his gaze settled on Tezuka directly. "Damn, and I was looking forward to that too."

"As you said, we are both professionals."

Echizen's face split into a boyish smile. "So the only question left is whether or not we're equals." Despite the smile, Echizen's eyes narrowed. "What do you think, Bu- I mean, Tezuka?"

Tezuka ignored the strange tingle on the back of his neck instigated by the sound of his name rather than his former title rolling off Echizen's lips. Instead he took the opportunity to thoroughly reacquaint himself with the sight and sense of an adult Echizen. The younger man's confidence covered him inside and out, stoking Tezuka's fighting spirit even more.

"We won't know until we play," Tezuka said.

Echizen paused, then pushed himself off the wall. "Sounds good. Let's play now."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's have a match. Right now." Echizen walked forward and jerked his head to the side. "The practice court won't be in use for at least another hour."

Tezuka hesitated. "You have an official match this afternoon, don't you, Echizen?"

Echizen sighed. "This isn't the tennis club. We can do whatever we want during our breaks." Tezuka said nothing. "Fine," Echizen conceded. "Then come and help me warm up."

Frustration began to replace his previous curiosity. "Echizen…"

"This isn't Japan. You know, "When in Rome..." and so on?" He shook his head and returned Tezuka's blank gaze. "Calling me Ryoma is fine."

Tezuka prepared to scold his former kouhai for losing his manners during his career as well. "I fail to see why it makes a difference."

"Whatever," Echizen said, although his tone betrayed annoyance. "If you don't think you can beat me here, go ahead and stick with the formalities. It's all the same to me. _Tezuka_."

The challenge stung more than Tezuka let on, but he refused to be provoked. "I look forward to our official match."

Perhaps trying to discuss anything with Echizen was an unreasonable expectation. It seemed the young man's attitude had degraded since his adolescence.

Just as Tezuka was about to walk away, Echizen softly said, "You know, you never change." He took a deep breath and held it momentarily. "I'm glad you're here, Buchou. I was starting to wonder if you'd ever come."

Taken aback, Tezuka refrained from speaking for the moment. Disappointment gave way to confusion.

Echizen snickered. "I actually came down here to see if you wanted to grab some lunch." Tezuka scowled skeptically but remained silent. "See?" Echizen pulled both hands out of his pockets and motioned around him. "I don't even have my racket. Besides, I'm hungry."

Tezuka realized Echizen was right; his bag was nowhere in sight. "All right," he finally agreed. Only then did Tezuka notice the tension in Echizen's body as the younger man visibly relaxed.

"You can leave your stuff in there," Echizen said, pointing to the locker room.

"Aren't we going upstairs?"

"I'd rather not." Echizen scowled. "Between the reporters and VIPs, you can't sit for five minutes without getting interrupted."

Tezuka wondered if that was true, or if it was only true in Echizen's case. He suspected the latter but kept it to himself. "Anywhere is fine. We have quite a bit of catching up to do."

Echizen grinned. "True, but we're not going to really know each other again until we play. Don't you agree, Buchou?"

Tezuka schooled his features and offered nothing but a nod. _Indeed._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Ryoma led Tezuka into a hole-in-the-wall tavern a block from the stadium. Despite Buchou's stony expression, Ryoma could tell the older man felt unsure about the place.

A beefy man with a gray halo of hair appeared from the back. As soon as he spotted Ryoma, the man beamed. "Hey, Samurai Boy!" The guy wiped his hands across the front of the apron and limped over. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

"I just got in yesterday," Ryoma argued.

"No excuse!" Still smiling, the man grabbed Ryoma and enveloped him in a bear hug. Ryoma's feet dangled several inches off the floor. When the man finally let go, Ryoma had to readjust his shirt and grab his cap off the floor. He glanced at Tezuka and nearly laughed out loud. Both of Tezuka's eyebrows had run for cover under his bangs. His eyes widened even more when the barkeep turned to him. "I've never seen you around here before. You a pro, too?"

"Yes," Tezuka replied stiffly.

Ryoma winced. "Sorry about that. Buchou, this is Jim Harding. He owns this place. Jim," Ryoma continued, "this Kunimitsu Tezuka."

"No shit!" The man grabbed Tezuka's hand and shook it so hard even Buchou swayed. "So I finally get to meet _the_ Mr. Tezuka. Samurai Boy used to talk about you all the time!" Jim paused. "You know, I thought you'd be younger…"

Ryoma cleared his throat and hid his embarrassment. "Do we get to eat sometime today?"

"Well then don't dawdle, boy. You and your friend can have a seat anywhere you like. And order what you want – it's on the house!" The old man motioned around the empty room before rushing back behind the counter. "I'll get you set up." Ryoma led Tezuka to a corner table.

"Interesting man," Tezuka said, looking around.

"Yeah, well, Jim's son is the manager of a drug store in New York. I shopped there while I was staying at the hotel before the first US Open."

"The first US Open?" Tezuka repeated, although it sounded more like he was trying to digest information rather than ask a question.

"Yeah. His son even watched my cat for me when I went back to Japan to play you before the finals."

Jim reappeared with a glass of water in each hand. "By the way," he asked, looking out the window, "where's Blondie? You didn't ditch him, did you?"

Tezuka's eyebrows shot up once again; his gaze rested squarely on Ryoma.

Ryoma pretended not to notice. "He went to check on Karupin before our game this afternoon."

"You two playing doubles again?"

Ryoma shrugged. "It's an exhibition game."

Jim laughed. "You two ought to think about doing that at the Open this year. Wouldn't be another pair that could beat you two."

Ryoma glanced at Tezuka. "Jim used to play tennis," he explained, "so he thinks he's an expert."

"Hey, I know a good pair when I see one. You boys would sweep for sure!"

"I'll sweep it anyway," Ryoma countered matter-of-factly.

"If you intend to win another US Open," Tezuka interjected with equal confidence, "perhaps you should reconsider playing doubles."

Had anyone else said it, Ryoma would have smirked and bit back, or perhaps he would have simply taken the guy to a court and shown him how real tennis was played. But Tezuka-buchou wasn't just anybody. And Ryoma realized, surprisingly and to his own bemusement, that a part of him believed his former tennis captain.

He decided to revisit his videos when he got back to the hotel, because he had no intention of losing at this exhibition or at the US Open. Even if his final opponent was Tezuka-buchou.

Without looking at a menu Ryoma ordered the special, and he grinned when Tezuka said he would have the same. He almost lost his composure entirely when he saw Tezuka's expression as two heaping double chili-cheeseburger and onion ring platters were dropped onto the table in front of them ten minutes later.

"Should you eat something like that before a match?" Tezuka asked.

Since he had been genuinely hungry when he invited Tezuka-buchou, Ryoma chose omission and dug into his plate. After a few moments, Tezuka muttered, "Itadakimasu," and took a tentative bite of his hamburger.

"This is surprisingly good," Tezuka said before taking another bite.

Ryoma tried not to feel too pleased with himself but failed. "Try one of those." He pointed to the onion rings. "They're the best in the city."

Ryoma took the opportunity to observe Tezuka-buchou more closely. The man had hardly changed; even his glasses looked the same. The confident air of inherent authority and imbued charisma remained as well. Ryoma once thought perhaps his perception of Tezuka-buchou back then had been an over-inflated byproduct of childhood, but now he knew better. Even now, Tezuka Kunimitsu appeared infallible, untouchable, utterly perfect.

However Ryoma had to admit he never thought he'd see Buchou eat something as humble as a burger and onion rings. He nearly fell out of his chair when Tezuka ordered a draft beer to go with it. Then it occurred to him that Tezuka nursing a beer with lunch shouldn't seem all that strange. Tezuka was twenty-two now, plus he'd spent several years in Europe. But it _was_ strange, and Ryoma couldn't help but contemplate what else about Buchou might be different now.

They remained quiet for the rest of the meal. Ryoma swallowed his last bite when Tezuka finally broke the silence. "You seem to be doing fairly well, Echizen."

"I'm undefeated this year," Ryoma said, grabbing a paper napkin from the table dispenser.

Tezuka frowned. "Although that's good to hear, I wasn't talking about tennis."

Tezuka-buchou wasn't talking about tennis? Wow, things really had changed…

"I was talking about you," Tezuka said. "_You_ seem to be doing fairly well."

Ryoma sat for a moment, unsure how he should respond. His favorite platitudes felt unfit for Tezuka-buchou, but he damn sure wasn't going to tell him the truth either. "I play tennis for a living, and I win most of the time. What else is there?"

Buchou still looked dissatisfied. "That's what I would like to know. What else is there for you?"

Despite his desire to return the question back unanswered and posing a similar one of his own, Ryoma's willpower failed him against Tezuka-buchou's unspoken demand for an explanation. He found himself telling Buchou various things about his life after Seigaku: home school teachers that migrated with him so he could graduate, investments made to ensure his financial security after retirement, acquaintances living in various cities around the world. He told Buchou about gaining dual citizenship between the US and Japan. He called both an apartment in Tokyo and a house in Queens home. In his absence, his parents resided in the big house in New York; his cousin stayed in the flat in Tokyo.

"That about sums it up," he concluded, shrugging. "Of course I've seen a few familiar faces over the years."

Buchou nodded. "Oishi told me you attended the ceremony in Italy."

Ryoma snickered as the memory came back to him. "Yeah, it's too bad you couldn't make it. Actually, I was a little disappointed with the whole thing." At Tezuka's unspoken query, he smirked. "Somehow I though I'd get to see Kikumaru-senpai in a wedding dress."

Even Buchou's mouth quirked upward. "Indeed." The amusement disappeared as quickly as it appeared. "You spent a bit of time traveling with Fuji afterward, didn't you?"

Right, of course Buchou knew about that part too. He too had kept in touch with many of his old Regulars. All of them actually, except him. Pushing that thought aside, Ryoma chose to keep the details of his adventure with Fuji-senpai to himself. "It was just a quick road trip. I hadn't done much sightseeing, and it was Golden Week, so Fuji-senpai had some time."

Apparently satisfied, Buchou left it at that. He glanced at his watch. "We should leave. You'll need time to prepare properly."

Leave it to Buchou to drag information out of him and then tell him to get warmed up for his next match. "We still have some time. You haven't even told me what you've been doing."

"We'll talk more at dinner tonight." Tezuka-buchou stood up, leaving Ryoma no choice but to follow suit. "I assume you're staying at the hotel next to the arena." When Ryoma acknowledged he was, Tezuka nodded. "I'll meet you in the lobby at eight."

Well…that settled that, didn't it?

* * *

**A/N:** I still don't feel like I got very far, but that's just me being lazy. And just enjoying the desire and act of writing again. Forgive me my creative frolic. 

I had actually planned on saying something else down here, but I've forgotten what it was. Anyway, thank you all for your support and, in some cases, your delicate corrections when I make a mistake. It is all appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"_Hello, Tezuka."_

_The call was not unexpected, just unexpectedly late in coming._

"_Fuji… How was the ceremony?"_

"_Our Golden Pair has never shown so brilliantly. It's a shame you couldn't be there, Tezuka. We missed you." A pause. "Especially Echizen."_

"_Echizen?"_

"_Yes. I think he was the most disappointed that you didn't attend."_

_Echizen went to Italy? "But I thought…"_

"_He was preparing for the French Open? We all did, of course, but it was a wonderful surprise to see him again nevertheless."_

_Tezuka cleared his throat. "I see."_

"_Do you regret it?"_

_Tezuka felt the trap being laid but felt equally unable to avoid it. The most he could do was stay quiet as Fuji continued to slice into his soul with every melodic word._

"_If you had known Echizen would be there, would you have come after all?"_

"_My absence was unavoidable."_

_Another pause, longer this time. "Of course it was. And I'm glad to know that. I suspect he and I wouldn't have had such a lovely time otherwise." A chuckle. "Echizen reminds me of you, Tezuka. He's exquisite in every way. He even dances like you."_

_Tezuka's gut twisted. "You're going back to school tomorrow, aren't you? I thought I would hear from you sooner."_

"_Ah yes, well, I just got back tonight."_

"_You stayed for the entire week?"_

"_No, we took a short trip after the wedding."_

"_We?"_

"_Echizen mentioned how close we were to Munich, but then we realized neither of us had ever explored the French countryside. And honestly, I no longer care to see Germany. I hope you understand, Tezuka."_

_Only Fuji knew how to turn such lovely verbiage into a ruthless weapon against him. "It sounds like you enjoyed yourself."_

"_Unfortunately we didn't see as much of the countryside as we had planned, but it's an amazing place. Do you remember, Tezuka? I told you once I thought Southern France would have the most beautiful inns in the world. I was right; the one Echizen chose for us was even more romantic than I could have imagined. I intend to visit again after graduation. Perhaps after the French Open next year, when Echizen and I both have more time…"_

* * *

The alarm clock on the nightstand beeped, rousing Tezuka off the sofa and out of the unpleasant recollection. He only allowed memories like that one to creep in when he slept. But he wasn't surprised that particular memory surfaced today, especially after his lunchtime conversation with Echizen. 

Echizen had sounded nonchalant when he mentioned his excursion with Fuji last year, and even Fuji had never specifically said anything happened between them at that time. Tezuka had convinced himself since then that Fuji's elusions were just that – wordplay designed to placate his bitterness towards Tezuka – towards their own time together – and insight Tezuka's jealousy.

Somehow, however, Echizen himself had removed all delusion from Tezuka's mind. Echizen's expression when he mentioned the trip left no doubt. He couldn't place it exactly, whether the shadow that passed over Echizen's golden eyes was due to reminiscent emotion or resultant guilt, but either one led to the same conclusion.

Less than sixteen months earlier, Fuji had indeed seduced Echizen. Tezuka also remembered that was also only the second time since his introduction that Echizen had lost the French Open. He was defeated in the semi-final round in fact, to none other than Kevin Smith.

Kevin Smith was one topic they hadn't covered during lunch, although Tezuka felt grateful for his oversight at the moment. Despite Echizen's declaration that he had pursued little activity of meaning outside of tennis, the intricacies of Ryoma Echizen's web denoted otherwise. How many others had been trapped by him over the past eight years? How many had trapped him in return? And how many of those people and experiences had unconsciously shaped him into the half-hearted player he had become?

Tezuka checked the clock and, briefly, wished he hadn't mentioned going out for dinner. Then again he revolted against fear as a rule; this time was no different. True, things had become more complicated than just fixing Echizen's tennis. Yet he would continue to unravel the mystery of Ryoma Echizen, and of course he did promise Echizen he would offer details of his own past since they'd last seen one another.

He noted that he had just enough time to select the venue for their second meeting and then get dressed. Even though he disliked the source, Tezuka chose to utilize one interesting piece of information as he called to the concierge desk for restaurant suggestions and to make reservations.

* * *

Tezuka stepped off the elevator and entered the hotel lobby at eight o'clock sharp. Considering the number of people meandering around the room, Tezuka expected to have to search for Echizen, if the younger man had even arrived yet. 

Somehow his eyes needed no guidance. He simply looked toward the closest pillar; Echizen stood propped against it as though he were the one holding it in place.

It still took Tezuka several seconds to register the difference between night and day, literally. At the arena earlier Echizen looked and sounded older, yes, but in tennis garb he still looked like the old Echizen. No matter his own feelings, Tezuka could put them into perspective when dealing with the Echizen he once knew.

The man waiting for him now, however, was definitely _not_ the child Tezuka remembered. Echizen wore a crimson dress shirt, black slacks and shoes, sans ball cap to hide the contrast between the color of his hair and eyes when the younger man lifted his gaze to meet Tezuka's…

"_He's exquisite in every way."_

If this was the man Fuji encountered last year, then even Fuji had managed to understate Echizen's aesthetic maturity.

But then it appeared he wasn't the only one taken aback by his companion's appearance this evening. He suppressed a shiver as Echizen's golden eyes widened slightly, and the younger man deliberately looked over Tezuka from head to foot and back up again. The glowing eyes which returned to Tezuka's looked nothing like those of a child.

"Well, Buchou, it looks like I'm not overdressed after all."

The reference to his former title helped Tezuka regain his composure, but only a little. "Not at all," he replied, forcing his voice to remain neutral. He finally made his feet move until he stood in front of Echizen.

The younger man pushed off the stone column and grinned. "I suppose it's time for me to play tour guide."

"That won't be necessary." Tezuka ignored Echizen's confused expression. "We should go. The taxi will be waiting outside."

"Taxi?" Tezuka nodded, then walked ahead, leaving Echizen to catch up. He did in less than three steps. "I thought you'd never been to Los Angeles before."

"I haven't." Tezuka nodded to the doorman as they passed into the warm evening air. He headed straight for the cab parked on the other side of the drive. "The concierge was most helpful in suggesting an acceptable place."

Echizen hummed under his breath. "So where are we going?"

"West Hollywood." Tezuka reached the cab and opened the door for Echizen, who made no move to get in. Years had passed since he'd seen such an astonished look on the younger man's face. "Is something wrong?"

Echizen's brow furrowed. "Not really. It's just…"

"If you have no objections, we should go."

This time Echizen moved to the door but stopped after putting one foot inside. Echizen's visible apprehension melted away, replaced with a smirk. "Just so you know, Buchou," – Echizen's eyes gleamed predatorily – "anyone else would think this is a real date."

Tezuka lifted one eyebrow. So Echizen's intention was to shock him, was it? Then the least he could do was return the attempted favor. When he answered Echizen's grin with a commanding glare, the younger man faltered.

"Then it seems the only person mistaken would be you."

To Echizen's credit, he only stiffened slightly. His mouth became a firm line. He too seemed to understand now this showdown was finished, and he finally got into the car and slid over to make room for Tezuka. "Whatever you say, Buchou," he muttered as Tezuka followed suit. "Just don't expect me to pick up the check for dinner."

* * *

**A/N: **Believe it or not, I do intend to make this story progress at some point. Really. Thank you all for being patient with me while I play. 


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay this time. Between working almost 50 hours last week – and I was _off_ for Labor Day – and this allergy attack-turned-flu that I haven't been able to completely shake yet, I've been creatively unproductive.

Thank you again for being patient.

**Chapter Five**

As the cab pulled up to the curb, Ryoma wasn't sure how he felt about where Tezuka-buchou had chosen to take him. Not that he disliked the place; in fact he'd been there several times himself over the years. The food was good and the atmosphere as relaxed or electric as you wanted, depending on the time of day and where you asked to be seated. It was a place you could take a group and hang out. Or you could go on a date like this one – _although_ _it's not really a date_, Ryoma reminded himself – and have a good time without feeling conspicuous.

He noted vaguely that Tezuka had gotten out, thanked the driver, and paid the cab fare. Then his door opened. He blinked himself out of his reverie and looked up at Tezuka, waiting patiently for him to exit. Buchou stood straight, as always, with one hand curved over the door and the other hidden in the pocket of his gray slacks. His head turned slightly, his gaze directed at their destination across the street. Behind the glasses, even without direct contact with his own, Tezuka's gaze looked sharper than Ryoma remembered.

Ryoma realized it didn't matter where they were. Everybody's eyes would be on Tezuka. Hell, he couldn't seem to make his own eyes leave the stunning man either.

He did however finally make his body obey his brain's command to move. He could already hear the bass pulsing from the back bar as he stepped out of the car. The overtone of people sitting and talking at the outside tables along the front and sidewalk around the building also met his ears.

As the cab pulled away, Ryoma noticed a few of those couples had already stopped talking. As they crossed the street, already those men had begun to stare. Ryoma saw no recognition on any of their faces which would indicate they knew who either he or Tezuka-buchou was. All he saw in their expressions was very evident visual appreciation.

Once glance at Buchou confirmed he too had noticed the attention they'd already drawn. Ryoma realized he should probably offer another suggestion for dinner. Obviously Tezuka-buchou could tell now why he had tried to deter him from taking him to a restaurant in this particular neighborhood.

He took an unconscious step closer to Tezuka, and their arms brushed against each other. Just as he opened his mouth to say…something, Tezuka's eyes narrowed at the nearest pair. Then, to Ryoma's astonishment, that same arm moved behind him, and Tezuka's hand came to rest, almost possessively, on the center of his lower back.

The touch made his skin tingle beneath his shirt, but the breath which suddenly swept across his forehead damn near took his legs from him.

"Echizen…"

Ryoma jerked his head upward and faced that deep voice on instinct only to find himself eye to eye, nose to nose with his former captain. In that moment, just like in his memories of a dark night on a tennis court and the task he was given then, Tezuka-buchou's presence swallowed the world around them.

Tezuka softly said, "Let's go in." Ryoma could do nothing but follow that command as well. Despite his compliance, in the back of his mind, he noted that Buchou's hand remained in the same place until they were seated.

* * *

During their meal, Ryoma remained mute as Tezuka told him about college in Europe and how he'd double-majored in psychology and education. He talked about like in the minor circuits and tournaments he'd won. He spoke of his intention to become a tennis coach once he could no longer play professionally, though he had no preference as to where he did so when the time came.

To Ryoma, everything Tezuka-buchou had volunteered about himself sounded like static, absolutely meaningless. But then he was still preoccupied with their close encounter outside the restaurant.

In fact, the waiter had picked up their dinner plates and brought new drinks when Ryoma began to feel like he was coming back to himself. On one hand, he felt relieved that they'd been seated in the quietest area of the restaurant. On the other hand though…

He glanced at the booth across the room in time to see the men sitting there share a kiss across the table.

…the atmosphere was more intimate than he'd expected.

"Are you feeling all right?"

Startled, Ryoma cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm fine." His voice cracked, so he took a drink before trying again. "I've just never been in this section before."

"But you have been here before?"

"A few times." He shrugged. "I usually just sit in the bar."

"You came here alone?"

Ryoma's eyebrow quirked, but he chose not to answer that question. "As I recall, Buchou, it was my turn to grill you this time."

Tezuka nodded once and took a sip of his wine.

The request so quickly accepted threw Ryoma for a minute. Buchou had already offered some of his history, although Ryoma was far from satisfied. The truth was he had lots of questions, and they all seemed to run together within his mind all the sudden.

He heard his first question as though someone else had spoken it. Before he could take it back, however, it was too late.

"Buchou, what exactly happened between you and Fuji-senpai?"

Ryoma realized that never before, and probably never again, would anyone see Tezuka Kunimitsu so visibly stunned. He may have enjoyed it more if the disbelief in his own audacity didn't overshadow that fact. As quickly as the expression invaded Tezuka's features, they fled. Tezuka's face became blank, devoid of any emotion whatsoever.

Ryoma closed his eyes, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have –"

"What did Fuji tell you?"

He looked once again to see Tezuka studying his glass, his expression still unreadable. Honestly, Fuji had told him lots of things, but most of them were said while comparing him to their old tennis captain.

"Well," Ryoma began, "he told me that you and he…got together…during your junior year of high school. And that you had to hide it from both of your families. And that he didn't care, because it was you."

Tezuka showed no reaction. "And?"

"And…" Ryoma fumbled, his thoughts once again careening haphazardly in his head. "Well, he said you broke up during your freshman year of college, because…"

Ryoma paused. Tezuka looked up, silently commanding Ryoma to continue. And suddenly, the memory of Fuji-senpai's melodic voice came to the forefront.

"_Tezuka will never love anyone more than he loves tennis."_

"He said you'll never love anyone more than you love tennis," Ryoma repeated. He kept everything else Fuji-senpai had said that particular night to himself for the time being. For some reason, he felt vocalizing it would break Fuji-senpai's trust and trivialize those feelings. Even though he couldn't begin to guess how Tezuka felt behind the stoic mask he kept firmly in place.

"I see," Tezuka responded finally.

The ambiguous response irritated Ryoma for several reasons. He could still hear Fuji-senpai crying softly against his shoulder that night over a year ago.

"Is that it? Is that really what happened?"

Tezuka seemed to consider his answer carefully before speaking, which pissed Ryoma off even more.

"I suppose that was part of it," Tezuka admitted. "That is certainly how Fuji would see things."

"What about you? How do you see it, Buchou?"

Tezuka frowned. "It was a mistake," he stated, a hint of regret tainting his smooth voice. "It was something I never should have allowed to happen at all."

A mistake? Is that all he could say? Ryoma pressed on. "Were you even in love with him? Ever?"

"No."

Ryoma could only stare. And Tezuka stared right back.

Then Tezuka said, "That's why it was a mistake I should not have allowed to happen."

Ryoma's brain seemed to stall. But if that was so…

"Then, why?"

"Honestly, I don't know."

That answer made the whole thing even more confusing. Especially since Ryoma himself had not known about the relationship at all until Fuji-senpai told him, and by then, it had long been over.

"But then," Tezuka said, interrupting Ryoma's thoughts, "I could ask you the same question."

Ryoma blinked. "What do you mean?"

Perhaps it was the dim lights above or a reflection from the candle burning between them, but Tezuka's eyes suddenly looked as though they were on fire. Those eyes cut through Ryoma and his preemptive desire to avoid the oncoming inquiry.

"What exactly happened between you and Fuji?" Tezuka echoed, almost.

Ryoma answered the best way he knew how: serve and volley.

"What did Fuji-senpai tell you?"

Tezuka's mouth twitched downward. "Among other things, that you're a competent dancer."

Ryoma had anticipated many responses, but that wasn't one of them. Why would Fuji-senpai say… Oh yeah, right, the wedding reception. Ryoma couldn't help but grin. "I'd forgotten that part."

"I'm not surprised."

The comment, and the angry insinuation beneath it, was like a bucket of ice water. Ryoma shuddered involuntarily. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

Tezuka said nothing, but the unspoken accusation manifested in his steely expression. Tezuka-buchou was challenging his previous condemnation of him. Tezuka saw them as one in the same when it came to Fuji-senpai.

It was true that, for a little while, he'd allowed himself to get lost in the memories of his former self, memories of the people who shaped the man he'd become. And yes, for one week Fuji-senpai had been his lover. But that was the only similarity Ryoma acknowledged.

He didn't try to hide his own anger as he leaned forward, his voice dropping. "I didn't pretend to love him, Buchou."

"Neither did I."

* * *

Behind the practiced mask of calm, Tezuka Kunimitsu was fuming.

He had no idea what Fuji told Echizen a year earlier, but he knew without question that Fuji's perception of their relationship was tainted by the tensai's own disappointment and resentment.

However Fuji was not completely to blame. No matter what Fuji could, and probably did, confide to Echizen, it was still Echizen's choice to believe Fuji's subjective assertions without question. And it was obvious Echizen had indeed believed him.

That Echizen would think, even for a moment, that Tezuka would intentionally lead someone on, take him into his bed, and fabricate emotions he did not feel for the person was insulting to say the least. Speculating that type of behavior towards a stranger would be an insult in itself, of course, but then to insinuate he would do it to Fuji of all people…

The younger man's bewildered expression now only provoked Tezuka's rage. Beneath the table he clenched his hands into fists. Suddenly Tezuka's entire reason for bringing Echizen here, even his reasons for being in America at all, seemed meaningless. He rejected the foreign feelings immediately.

If this was the situation, so be it. This Echizen was a professional tennis player he would face during their careers, but otherwise he was a complete stranger.

Tezuka stood. "I'll find the waiter and take care of the bill. Excuse me." He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Echizen sitting alone.

* * *

Thirty minutes after Tezuka returned to his hotel room, he was sitting on the corner of his bed staring at nothing in particular. He knew he needed to rest in preparation for his match the next day. It was probably going to be one of his toughest matches yet. His opponent was, after all, the number ten seeded player in the world.

However sleep eluded him, and instead of thinking about his game the next day, he caught himself thinking of the golden eyed man he'd left in the restaurant in West Hollywood. He wasn't concerned; Echizen would have no trouble getting back to the hotel.

His anger towards Echizen had subsided. Or rather, had been redirected. At himself. Their meeting had been inconclusive, his departure premature.

_What's wrong with me?_

Typically he could analyze his own unsatisfactory reactions and pinpoint the weakness which caused them. Whether it related to tennis or any other aspect of himself, he would quickly rectify those flaws. Since flaws were inevitable, there was no need to dwell on them beyond evaluation and solution implementation.

Echizen had always challenged that within him, both on and off the court. That part of Echizen's personality antagonized him as much as it drove him. It had been a long time since he'd faced someone who caused him to feel so conflicted. And that someone had been the pre-teen prodigy-to-be himself.

But this was not like their time at Seigaku. Inevitably they would both change to some degree with time and varying experiences. Tezuka understood that, but he hadn't expected the changes to be so drastic.

Despite the fact that Echizen had recognized his name and face when they saw one another again, that alone was inconsequential. Somewhere along the way, among the players Echizen had faced and the acquaintances he'd made, Tezuka felt as though Ryoma Echizen had forgotten him.

A sharp knock on the door brought him out of his sullen musings. He looked at the clock and sighed. His manager had apparently caught up with him, although he wasn't sure if he was in the mood to deal with the man at the moment.

His responsibilities superceded a bad mood, so he forced the stoic mask back into place and answered the door.

The mask fell away immediately as he was met with two daggers of gold.

"I was wrong," Echizen said so softly Tezuka almost couldn't hear him. Almost. "You have changed."

Tezuka scowled. Echizen bowed his head slightly, but Tezuka could still see the frustration written clearly across his handsome face.

"The Tezuka-buchou I knew never ran away from anyone or anything."

Behind the stern exterior, Tezuka knew he wasn't ready to face Echizen yet. His own thoughts were still too incoherent. Forcing his jaw not to clench, Tezuka said, "I'm not running away. I apologize for what I did. However, I saw no point in continuing our conversation tonight. Now, if you'll excuse me –"

"Why not?" Echizen growled, sending his golden glare straight through Tezuka. "Because I asked about something you didn't want to talk about?"

"No," Tezuka replied coolly. "Because you even had to ask at all."

Tezuka intended to look away, to walk away, to close the door and get a grip on himself, but something new came into Echizen's eyes, and it stooped him short. Those golden eyes were still blazing with anger, but another emotion filtered in as well.

"Of course I had to ask." Echizen muttered. "I haven't talked to you a single time in the last eight years."

Tezuka froze.

"Everyone else…they called and sent letters and emails and stuff. I even came back and saw some of them a few times." Echizen grimaced. "Except you. You were always somewhere else, doing something else. When you started high school, I sent letters and never got anything back. So after a couple years I stopped trying. Because I knew you'd turn pro, and that you were probably focused only on that. You had to come eventually, because you're Tezuka-buchou."

"But everyone else seemed to know what you were doing," Echizen continued. "You kept in touch with them, kept encouraging them. You never stopped being their "pillar of support." And I couldn't understand why you treated me differently than them. I know I was only in the club for one school year, but I was one of your Regulars too."

At some point, Tezuka wasn't sure when, he had moved aside and allowed Echizen to enter his room. Upon realize it, he closed the door. Echizen moved inside just enough to allow that, but did not move another stop from his spot in the entry.

He too remained in the same place, unable to move as Echizen's words struck him over and over.

Echizen leaned heavily against the wall. "And then, at Oishi-senpai and Kikumaru-senpai's wedding, when I saw Fuji-senpai again and he told me about you two, it was like…" The younger player's shoulders fell. "It was like you'd moved on and forgotten about me. I know that sounds stupid, but you're the one who changed my game. You changed _me_, Buchou. You turned me into a real player."

"Echizen…"

Echizen's gaze looked distant, and Tezuka suspected he knew where the man's mind has gone before he said anything else.

Echizen spoke anyway, his voice equally disassociated from their present time and place. "When we played that last time, when I finally beat you, I know everybody else thought that was to settle things between us. It's true, I didn't feel like I deserved to compete in the finals at the US Open until I'd won against you. But that wasn't supposed to be the end. If I'd believed that, I never would have left."

Tezuka's eyes were so wide they burned. He too found himself back there, at that court where they played their final game eight years earlier. He remembered well the pride he felt that Echizen had kept his promise, that he had indeed become strong enough to defeat him. He'd told Echizen that he had become their pillar of support, that he needed to go back to America with no regrets, and he'd meant every word. Tezuka himself had never second-guessed that decision.

But he had not done so without repressing his own selfish jealousy. He had ignored the sting of that defeat, and the knowledge that came with it.

Echizen would go to back to America, and he would probably win the US Open and many more professional tournaments to follow. He would enter the world stage and conquer each obstacle he faced. His game would progress and evolve. His level would continue to elevate until no one could reach him anymore.

He vowed not to let that happen. Although the roles had reversed, he knew he would reach an even stronger Echizen, and then he would surpass him.

Tezuka was willing to do whatever it took to perfect himself to that end. Unlike Echizen, however, Tezuka had other obligations to fulfill. After watching Echizen's first few professional tournaments during his freshman year of high school, he'd asked Ryuzaki-sensei to recommend him for the tennis academy in America she had spoken of the year before. He'd hoped his family would approve since they'd allowed his extended rehabilitation in Germany. But they had denied his request. While Echizen played the best players in the world, he was forced to continue playing at the regional and, twice, at the national levels in Japan.

For Tezuka, that had been a painful setback. He persevered of course, but by the time he had to choose between entering one of the minor pro circuits in America or going to college, he believed his time had not come yet.

He too had needed to face players around the world. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have been worthy to even stand on the court with Echizen Ryoma.

_Did I wait too long? _

For the sake of his tennis, he knew that was false. He would have been no match for Echizen after high school.

"_I'm glad you're here, Buchou. I was starting to wonder if you'd ever come."_

For Echizen's sake though…

"_Buchou, what exactly happened between you and Fuji-senpai?"_

Maybe even for his own sake, not as a tennis player, but for himself, perhaps…

"_But that wasn't supposed to be the end. If I'd believed that, I never would have left."_

Tezuka realized his mouth was open even though he couldn't think of anything to say in his own defense. He closed it and tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. Then Echizen pushed off the wall opposite of him, his expression one of utter submission.

"I don't know what I'm saying. I didn't mean to go off on a rant. Again. I just came here to apologize." He offered an artificial laugh that tore at Tezuka more than anything he'd said or done yet. "I'm sorry I was such a bad date, Buchou."

What Echizen had said about his intention to apologize initially was a lie, obviously. Knowing he'd chose to say something like that in order to hasten his exit normally would have earned him Tezuka's condemnation. Instead Tezuka felt paralyzed as Echizen reached for the doorknob and let himself out into the hallway.

"By the way, about your game tomorrow…"

Tezuka gave himself a mental shake and refocused just in time to see Echizen turn back.

"I won't be there to watch it, but you better win, Buchou. I won't forgive you if you don't."

Then the door closed, and Echizen was gone. Tezuka remained rooted in place, staring at the door, his mind fighting to decipher all that Echizen had said, and all that the younger player had left unsaid as well.

He planned to take the evening to regroup mentally and emotionally. He and Echizen were far from finished, of that he had no doubt. And If he lost tomorrow, Tezuka knew he would never forgive himself either.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **I don't have a good reason for being late with this chapter. I do however have an excuse: I've been hindered by the PoT manga. I'm so addicted, it's scary. And now I just have to suppress the urge to enter those elements into this story (since this is of based solely on the anime.) On that note…

**Chapter Six**

Ryoma entered his own hotel suite, ignoring the sudden silence as the TV turned off as well as the blue eyes fixed on him from the sofa. He slipped through the adjoining bathroom to reach the bedroom, yanking his shirt out of his pants and unbuttoning his shirt as he walked. As soon as he reached the bed, he flopped down and toed his shoes and socks off. Using both forearms as a pillow under his head, he closed his eyes and allowed the sigh he'd withheld because he was in front of Tezuka-buchou to finally escape from his chest.

_Buchou…_

And who had he accused of changing, of running away? Why did Buchou make him feel like he was twelve again and even more powerless than he had been then? Hell, when he was twelve years old, he would never have turned tail like he did tonight.

"Shit."

He stubbornly kept his eyes closed because even though he was emotionally exhausted, his mind and body felt wide awake. He knew sleep was necessary; he actually had a match worth playing tomorrow. Against the same man he suspected was now standing in the doorway.

It was confirmed a moment later. "Ryoma."

_Damn it. _"What? I'm trying to sleep."

A pause. "You were with your old captain tonight."

Because it wasn't a question but stated as a fact, Ryoma did open his eyes. "Who said I was with Tezuka-buchou?"

Kevin shrugged, and Ryoma saw both acknowledgement of his question and the confidence in Kevin's initial observation. After so many years of rivalry and the past few years of more substantial companionship, Ryoma knew lying was pointless.

Ryoma snorted and turned his gaze to the window. "Are you jealous?"

"Not really," Kevin said. "Should I be?"

Despite himself, Ryoma grimaced. No, Kevin definitely didn't have any reason to be jealous. He suddenly muttered, "I'm tired of tennis."

He caught Kevin's scowl out of the corner of his eye. "Say that after you beat me tomorrow."

Ryoma nodded negligibly. It might not be easy, but he knew he could beat Kevin.

"And say that after you've beaten Tezuka."

For a moment Ryoma considered that challenge. Would he be able to defeat Tezuka-buchou now? He'd seen enough of Buchou's matches on video to know the man's game was on par with his own. If Tezuka-buchou came at him with everything he had and could surpass his own limits as he'd forced Ryoma to do years earlier, then no one could honestly predict who the victor would be.

"You know, I actually hope Buchou beats me."

Ryoma surprised himself as much as he surprised Kevin with the admission. However the moment he spoke those words, he knew they were the absolute truth.

"I won't let him take it," Ryoma clarified. "I'm gonna go at him with everything I have, but honestly...I hope he still wins."

"Why?" Kevin sounded genuinely curious rather than angry, so Ryoma saw no need to avoid the question.

"Because if he can't beat me," Ryoma began, then shook his head, frustrated at his own inability to explain himself. He clenched his teeth and tried again. "If he doesn't want it enough, doesn't care enough to win against me, then there's no reason for me to do this anymore."

* * *

Kevin remained in the doorway for several more minutes. Ryoma had threatened retirement plenty of times, but this was only the second time his lover sounded serious. And this time, unlike the last, Kevin sensed no conflict within Ryoma.

Perhaps this is how the earth felt every evening when the sun fell, stealing its light and warmth along with it.

Even in his adulthood, after years of secret reflection, Ryoma had not yet discovered the true catalyst behind his increasingly chaotic nature. Kevin had believed seeing the rest of his old teammates from Japan would enlighten Ryoma, or at least guide him a little. And in a way it had, thanks to Tezuka's ex-boyfriend. Unfortunately the way it pointed Ryoma had been the wrong one.

Kevin remembered playing Ryoma during the French Open after that, fighting to keep his composure when he really wanted to forfeit the game just so he could knock the shit out of the guy who dared impersonate Ryoma Echizen with such a stiff, heartless play style.

Kevin had realized then that something – _the_ something, the intrinsic thing that belonged only to Ryoma, the feeling that only he could project and control and weave around everyone he met – was beginning to vanish.

Unfortunately he understood the true nature of Ryoma's internal torment and the toll it was taking on him. He knew it all to well, what it meant to have your heart belong to someone else before you were even old enough to know that's what happened to you. To realize that the admiration you once felt for a person hadn't diminished but, like their games, had transcended into something stronger and infinitely more treacherous.

Kevin knew what Ryoma truly meant when he said he wanted his former captain to defeat him.

"_If he doesn't want it enough…"_

If Tezuka didn't want _Ryoma_ enough…

"_Doesn't care enough to win against me…"_

If Tezuka didn't care enough _about Ryoma_ to win against him…

He didn't know what had happened between Tezuka and Ryoma since their reunion, but he recognized the defeat Tezuka had already served Ryoma that evening had been a crushing one. Details, like jealousy, were unnecessary at the moment. All Kevin cared about was putting his golden eyed sun back in the heavens where he belonged.

"If you want to quit," Kevin said, "I won't stop you." He suppressed a grin as Ryoma's head jerked up off his arms and his eyes went wide. "But you have to play me first. Right now."

Ryoma rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"I'm serious." And he was. More so than he had been in a long time.

Ryoma propped up on his elbows and stared for several long moments before shrugging. "Sure, why not. I'm not tired yet anyway."

Kevin looked Ryoma over as he got up from the bed. "Do you want to change first?"

"No need."

Kevin kept an eye on his companion as he shouldered both their bags and walked out of the room, headed for the outdoor courts nestled between the hotel and the sports arena. He chuckled to himself; Ryoma hadn't even bothered to re-button his shirt or put his shoes back on.

* * *

Tezuka opened his eyes, again, annoyed that he still couldn't fall asleep. A glance at the clock beside the bed mocked him even more. He had intended to be up by six to begin preparations before the crowds started to arrive. At this rate, he would have to wait until the warm-up courts opened in the arena just to make sure his body was completely prepped for his game.

"_You better win, Buchou."_"

Under no circumstances would he allow himself to lose.

He finally sat up, tossing his covers aside and walking to the bathroom to wash his face. When he returned, Tezuka glanced at the balcony window and frowned. Although his room was a few floors above a set of outdoor tennis courts, his view was completely blocked by the stadium next door. He had yet to even pull the curtain back and look outside, save for the few times he'd heard the tennis courts below in use. And so far each pair he'd seen had been pro-hopefuls at best. Now it was after midnight, and the last set of players had long retreated to their own rooms.

Which was why he was so surprised to hear the unmistakable creek of the gate around the courts open, then clang shut a moment later. But then this was California, and tennis enthusiasts were the same, be it noon or twilight. No one worth watching would be playing at this time of night anyway…

As soon as he heard the first serve, that telltale sound the ball made when it smashed against a seasoned player's racket, he knew he'd been mistaken. He stood motionless in the middle of his room, eyes closed, and he listened.

The serve had been fierce, the return equally powerful. Tezuka knew the rally that commenced would have wowed most people, yet somehow he knew it was just a greeting between the two anonymous players. The interval between each shot and the next remained consistent, calculated. Both players had probably taken fewer than two steps each since they started.

The rally ended, and Tezuka realized his jaw was stiff from clenching his teeth. The players on the court were both outstanding, and Tezuka was pretty confident that neither had used half of their real ability. Both were pros without question, which meant he had some stiff competition to look forward to.

The second serve came, and the ball's impact sounded…different, almost familiar. As did the sound of the same ball as it hit the fence rather than the opposing player's racket. Tezuka's eyebrow quirked, although his eyes remained shut. The initial niceties had obviously ended.

The third serve sounded stranger still, and this time, Tezuka's eyes flew open at the same moment he heard the ball once again rattle the fence. The sound of the fourth serve removed all doubt.

Three service aces. Three varying degrees of one phenomenal play.

Twist serves.

The last three plays had all been twist serves.

Before his brain registered the movement, he grabbed his glasses from the nightstand and yanked the curtains aside. He slid the balcony door open, exposing the scene below.

He made it to the railing just in time to see Kevin Smith point his racket at his seemingly dumbstruck opponent.

That opponent's name escaped Tezuka's lips as though someone else had pulled it from him. "Echizen…"

Even from his place above them, he could see Kevin's triumphant smile as the blond yelled, "You better get serious, Ryoma, because next time it'll be four in a row!"

* * *

So Kevin was getting serious. Knowing that, Ryoma couldn't help but smile to himself. It wasn't worth playing if Kevin didn't go all out against him.

He picked up the balls on the ground behind him. He pocketed two and fingered the third as he got into position.

Kevin's twist serve was certainly impressive, and Ryoma noted the blond had improved on his ability to control the angle of the ball's bounce.

But Kevin's serve wasn't his. Ryoma demonstrated that fact clearly with his first service ace. And the second. And the third. He retrieved a fourth ball from his bag and threw in top and side spin, a ruthless kick serve, to claim the final point just for the hell of it.

"Looks like you were right," Ryoma said as his grin broadened. "Four in a row."

Ryoma watched Kevin saunter toward the back of his end of the court to pick up the balls on the ground. "You know, you look just like your dad right now," Kevin shouted over his shoulder.

Ryoma blinked at the comment he may have considered an insult in his younger years. Then took a good look at himself. He'd hardly noticed his shirt was still wide open and his feet were bare. He wiggled his toes against the clay. It didn't feel too bad to play barefoot, actually.

The days when that kind of thing would have provoked him had long past. Instead he held his arms out wide and smirked. "Are you kidding? I look way better than my dad."

Kevin's eyebrows went up, and the blond player laughed. "I admit, you look good enough to beat, Ryoma."

As Kevin assumed his service position, Ryoma did likewise. He could already see it in those blue eyes and the firm line of Kevin's mouth. Kevin's next serve would mark the real beginning of this match.

Ryoma lost track of time as they played. In truth he didn't care how long the game against Kevin lasted. Normally he would've been at a disadvantage against tomorrow's opponent due to his lack of sleep, except that in this case his opponent would be suffering from the same problem. And nowadays he enjoyed non-regulated matches more anyway, especially against a powerful, creative player like Kevin.

So why was he still doing this? Why didn't he retire already? Everything he could think of was another reason to quit the elite pro circuit.

No sponsors bidding to decide which brand of shoes he wore or what racket he used…

No manager demanding he endorse products he'd never heard of, let alone tried…

No reporters asking him stupid questions about why he started playing tennis in the first place or his goals for the future…

No trainers insisting he stick with a more "traditional" style…

No doctors predicting he could only continue to play professional tennis for two or three more years before his body started to give out…

At that moment, on the nameless court without an audience to watch, Ryoma was playing the game he'd admitted long ago he loved, against a truly worthy adversary. When he played tennis against Kevin, it was a challenge, but it really was the game of all games. And it was _fun._

Ryoma took another point and grinned across the net at Kevin. "Six all. I guess that means a tie-break."

* * *

Kevin watched Ryoma for several seconds in silence as Ryoma slipped his racket into his right hand, then flexed the fingers on his left several times.

He hadn't intended the game to go on as long as it had, but Ryoma…he'd looked so happy for a little while. Just to keep seeing that expression on Ryoma's face and the fire in his golden eyes, he'd let him keep playing. Of course now they had a tie game, and Ryoma wanted to continue until one of them won.

Despite the rare look of anticipation on Ryoma's face and the heartache it caused Kevin to take that away, he schooled his own features. He slung his racket over his shoulder. "We have an official match tomorrow. I'll be more than happy to finish you then."

As expected the sun in Ryoma's gaze began to set, replaced by a silent plea. "What, are you scared to lose a practice match?"

_I know you want to keep playing, Ryoma._

Kevin wanted him to keep playing too. He wanted Ryoma Echizen to be able to play forever.

_But if we keep this up…if we really play until this game is over…_

As it was Kevin intended to call Ryoma's trainer in early, because no matter how sore his companion was, Ryoma wouldn't do it. At best, Ryoma would at least need his muscles worked over thoroughly, although explaining why Ryoma needed extra attention would earn them both a hell of a scolding. Hopefully his trainer would have a dose of cortisone on hand, just in case.

Kevin walked around the net. "C'mon, handsome. We have to go to sleep sometime, you know."

_There's someone you have to play, Ryoma. Now that's here, you have to play him, and you have to beat him, even if it's just one more time._

_Once you do that, then you can quit. You can stop without any regrets._

He noted the soreness in his own legs, particularly the invisible ice pick stabbing through his right knee.

_And so can I._

Ryoma scowled at him, but Kevin ignored it. He came face to face with the frustrated genius, rested his free hand on Ryoma's shoulder, and drew him close. He pressed his forehead against Ryoma's. "Do you have any idea how bad you stink right now?"

Despite his evident disappointment, a faint smile appeared on Ryoma's lips. "Look who's talking."

Ryoma was right; Kevin could feel his shirt pasted to his skin. He nodded in agreement, then trailed his hand up Ryoma's neck and weaved his fingers into the mop of sweat-soaked black hair. He dropped his voice to a husky whisper. "I guess we better take a shower."

Ryoma's eyebrow quirked, clearly amused at the innuendo. "Sounds good." Kevin felt Ryoma's free hand snake behind him, mirroring his own actions, taking a handful of his hair and maneuvering his head until their lips brushed. "I'm still not tired yet."

Normally he wouldn't have kissed Ryoma out in the open, but almost every other hotel occupant had long gone to bed. So he did kiss Ryoma, deeply, passionately, with everything he had and everything he wished he could get in return.

If only it was still there for him to take.

If only it didn't already belong to the man he could still see over Ryoma's shoulder, standing like a statue on his third floor balcony, their game's sole observer.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

"_One day, Tezuka, when you believe you've accomplished your dream and that you have everything you wanted… that's when you'll realize you really have nothing at all."_

Tezuka rebelled against the intruding memory of Fuji's parting words in his mind. He continued to stare at the now empty tennis court below. Despite the warm breeze caressing his face, he felt unusually cold beneath his skin.

Kevin Smith had kissed Echizen. And Echizen had visibly, willing, kissed Kevin Smith back. Even though the couple had departed several minutes earlier, the image of the pair entangled together still burned in his mind.

It answered the questions about their relationship; Tezuka berated himself for not seeing it from the beginning. The two had acted so familiar with one another. Add in the fact that the two shared a bit of history themselves from before either of them entered the top professional circuit, and the conclusion should have been obvious.

He supposed on some level it had been obvious. Despite that, he had assumed they were friends. He had not realized that Echizen and Kevin Smith were…well, quite _that_ close.

It made sense though. They were about the same age, shared the same profession and displayed similar play styles. Surely few others challenged Echizen like his American counterpart. Echizen had looked content, even happy, while he was playing against Kevin Smith. Their game had been spectacular, even Tezuka had to admit that, albeit grudgingly. He could count the number of times on one hand that he'd seen such flawless play from his former teammate. And Kevin Smith had proven he could give as good as he got, pushing Echizen into a tie game.

Could he compete with that? Would he be able to go beyond the level of play he'd witnessed tonight? Could he ignite the same determination, the same passion, within Echizen that Kevin Smith had? And would he be satisfied with only matching that, or would he feel unfulfilled until he surpassed the American player, until he himself became the only person who drew Echizen's golden gaze once again?

Tezuka shook himself out of the train of thought. He would be unable to do anything if he lost his match tomorrow. And that meant he needed to put the evening's events behind him and, finally, get some much needed rest. Surely things would make more sense then…

Tezuka released the balcony railing and hissed between his teeth. Turning his stinging palms upward, he realized the metal had dug into his flesh, leaving twin grooves in each. Cursing himself for such carelessness, Tezuka curled his fingers over and over until he felt satisfied he hadn't injured himself. His hands were stiff and hurt like hell, but the pain would subside soon enough.

Still, why did he not realize it sooner? How long had he been gripping that bar, and why had he held it so tightly anyway?

If his senses were that dulled, then he was more exhausted than he'd thought.

He turned on his heel and reentered his room, sliding the door closed behind him. He left the curtain as it was, striding to the bed, depositing his glasses back on the bedside table on his way. He lay down, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

Tezuka would not allow for any weakness in his next game. He didn't have the luxury. Surely Echizen would do the same. He suspected that was true of Kevin Smith as well.

No, Tezuka would not allow Kevin Smith to rise above him. Again. Ever. Tezuka would make sure Echizen's eyes focused most keenly upon him from now on.

As he began to fall asleep, Tezuka called the memory of the gaze he longed to see again to mind, the brilliant challenge he remembered so vividly that came from the twelve year old tennis player when faced from the opposing side of a tennis court.

His mind, however, denied his request.

Although his breath hitched and his heart began to race, he had no choice but to succumb to his body's demand for rest. Caught between deep sleep and consciousness, he saw something very different from what he'd expected.

Echizen did indeed visit his dream, but the man was twenty rather than twelve. Still dressed in the same clothes he'd worn to dinner, the challenge directed from the dream-Echizen's eyes were alight with more passion than Tezuka had ever seen before, and it had nothing to do with tennis.

Several minutes later, still trapped in sleep, Tezuka gasped Echizen's name to the empty room.

* * *

Tezuka's face and his dismissal crept into Ryoma's thoughts once again. He shut it out immediately.

For a little while, Ryoma just wanted to forget.

To do that, Ryoma immersed himself even deeper into every sensation – limbs shaking yet still twined tightly around his body; the scents freshly shampooed hair and soap being overcome by newly sweat-slicked skin; demanding lips and a hint of mint toothpaste.

Kevin's head jerked to the side, and the blond arched beneath him. Nails dug into Ryoma's back. The sudden infusion of pain into pleasure helped. Ryoma plunged even faster, deeper into the present, desperately chasing his own state of immediate euphoria.

His mind, thankfully, went totally blank as he finally reached his desired absolution. He was only vaguely aware of Kevin's voice as the blond cried out and went limp, save for arms which remained clasped around Ryoma's shoulders. Ryoma followed suit, collapsing against Kevin's chest, his face buried in the blond man's neck as he caught his breath.

As Ryoma felt his consciousness slip away, he rolled off of Kevin and onto his back. That was better. He'd gone beyond the ability to think at all. He could only lie there as his pulse returned to its normal pace and allow Kevin to curl up against him.

He was already asleep, so he never heard Kevin mutter, "I love you, Ryoma," in his ear before the American player also gave in to slumber.

Unfortunately the alarm rang much too soon for his liking. Ryoma tried to ignore it, but by the third buzz he couldn't stand it any longer. He cracked one eye open, just enough to climb over Kevin and hit the snooze bar –

He only stretched halfway before every joint in his left arm joined forces with the muscles in his back and legs, initiating a tortuous revolt against all motion. He gritted his teeth against the pain and yanked his arm back to his body. He glared at the clock which continued to ring.

Kevin's blue eyes fluttered open. "Mm, Ryoma?"

"Yeah, sorry. I'll get it." Ryoma clenched his jaw even tighter, trying to create a new pain to offset the first. He tried again.

Kevin's hand reached the button before Ryoma moved more than an inch. Annoyed, Ryoma looked down at the blond.

Those familiar blue eyes were now wide open and filled with concern. "Ryoma, you're –"

"I'm fine." Ryoma maneuvered back to his side of the bed, kicking the bedspread out of his way as he swung his legs off the bed. Another jolt shot up his spine while his ankles decided to join in as well. He sat and took a deep breath to make sure he could before speaking again. "I just slept wrong, that's all."

Ryoma winced as he rolled his neck a few times. Of course, he must have tossed and turned during the night. He always seemed to do that after playing against Kevin. And like the times before, that was the only explanation he could think of for why he always hurt so much more than usual afterward.

Exactly. He was a professional tennis player, after all; a moonlight match could not have caused this. Even if he did go against the orders of his trainer and played seriously for a change. Even though a one-set match against Kevin ran longer than many of his full length tournament games.

Ryoma began working his left shoulder in slow circles, ignoring Kevin as he felt the blond man's weight leave the bed. Ryoma stopped only when Kevin spoke up.

"Here, let me do it," Kevin said.

Ryoma rolled his eyes as he felt Kevin climb behind him. "I told you, I'm fi–shit, that's cold!"

Kevin spread a layer of cream over Ryoma's shoulder. "Good. Now stay still so I can rub this in."

Knowing he had little choice, Ryoma allowed Kevin to finish the application. He was relieved when the cream began to warm into his skin.

"You ready?"

Ryoma nodded, knowing from past experience that the worst was yet to come.

Any argument he could have made from that point on was stolen from him. He managed to repress the worst of it, only hissing through his teeth at first. Still he could not withhold a loud groan once Kevin raised his left arm level with his shoulder. He took another deep breath while Kevin held it there. After a minute, Ryoma let out it out and dropped his head back onto Kevin's shoulder.

He forced a chuckle. "I must've twisted myself up like a pretzel last night."

Kevin didn't argue. He just rested his cheek against Ryoma's. "Jesus, Freddy's gonna kill us both when he sees you like this."

"Fuck Freddy."

Kevin hummed under his breath. "Tempting, but he's a little old. And he's bald."

Ryoma grinned. "You're right." The pain started to ease. "Plus he's the Totalitarian Trainer from Hell."

"Well, yeah," Kevin agreed, "but that's because he knows you don't do stupid shit like this when he's around."

Ryoma snickered, then sucked in a breath as Kevin lowered his arm back down. "Is that what it is?"

"That's what it is." Kevin ran his fingers down Ryoma's arm until their hands met. "Squeeze."

Ryoma complied despite his muscles' compelling argument to stop immediately. After several repetitions, Kevin drew away.

The silence hung for several seconds before Kevin muttered, "I think you should forfeit the match today."

Ryoma twisted around to glare at Kevin. He rejected the pain radiating through his back. How could Kevin even suggest that he, Ryoma Echizen, actually skip out on a match? It wasn't like he couldn't play. He was just a little sore…

"Look, it's not like it matters whether you play today or not," Kevin continued. "It's just an exhibition to make our sponsors happy."

"It's a match," Ryoma stated, as though that settled everything.

"It's a match against _me_." Kevin's own stare hardened. "What do you plan to do, play right-handed the whole time? You'll lose, Ryoma. Is that what you want?"

Ryoma turned his back to Kevin and stood. "I won't forfeit the match."

After a tense pause, Kevin sighed deeply. "Fine. Just don't push yourself too hard. I'm gonna go ahead and call Freddy—"

Ryoma had already stalked into the bathroom. He dulled the sound of Kevin's voice when he closed the door and pretended his companion never said a word about any of it.

A match was a match after all, and no matter what it took, he couldn't afford to give even one up. Not yet.

* * *

Tezuka got up and, rather than head straight to the arena, spent an hour at the gym inside the hotel. After showering and eating breakfast, he checked his watch. He still had some time, although not as much as he would have liked for his upcoming game. Still, the practice court at the arena would be open, so he could get in at least another half hour of productive warm-up in before he had to play.

As he stepped out of the hotel, his eyes were drawn to the side of the building. He could probably work out a little longer at one of the hotel's outdoor courts…

The image of Echizen and Kevin Smith flashed through his mind. No, he would never be able to concentrate there. It was hard enough to focus without the scenic reminder. Combined with the remnants of his dreams last night, working there would do more harm than good.

As he reached the walk leading to the arena skywalk, he heard the sound of a tennis ball slamming repeatedly against the uneven stone surface of the hotel just around the corner. He halted and shook off the feeling of dejà vu. Even now that sound reminded him of Echizen, even though numerous players had converged at this location to play over the week.

"Keep going, kid, you got twenty more!"

The unfamiliar gruff voice made Tezuka stop short, although there was no logical reason to do so. Trainer's working with their charges was hardly uncommon; the player practicing now behind the building could be anyone. Plus Echizen's match was scheduled at the same time as his own. Surely the younger man was already at the arena.

The logic of that thought mattered little. Within himself, Tezuka _knew_.

"C'mon, Ryoma, tighten your grip!"

Tezuka stood still, trying to decide whether he should continue on his way – which would keep him totally out of sight - or make a convenient detour to the arena. All the while, the ball continued to slam against the wall.

"Kid, you're gonna get your racket knocked right out of your hand on the first serve if you don't _tighten your grip!_"

Tezuka frowned. Echizen, having problems with his grip? Impossible.

"Shut up already." The ball hit the wall one more time, then stopped. "My grip's fine."

Echizen's voice was all it took. Something was indeed wrong.

Tezuka thought he heard the unnamed man sigh before saying, "Just out of curiosity, how many of those fancy shots of yours did you show off last night?"

Silence.

"Jesus, kid, why do you keep doing this to yourself? All you have to do is play nice and clean, and you'll be good for...well hell, who know how long you could keep going!"

Keep going? What was the man talking about? Echizen had so few rivals, what could stop him from continuing at the top?

"There are some people I can't beat if I play like that."

"You mean Kevin?"

Tezuka caught himself holding his breath and forced the air back out of his lungs.

"Yeah. And someone else too."

"Maybe that's true," the gruff voice replied a moment later, "but I gotta wonder. There's a lot of players in the world you haven't faced yet. Are two people worth ending your career over?"

"Yes."

Tezuka felt frozen. Thoughts leapt through his mind so fast he could scarcely make sense of them. The only thing he knew for sure was that something was very, very wrong.

"I don't care about anyone else," Echizen continued. "Without those two people, I wouldn't be here. Sorry, Freddy, but I owe them my best game."

"Even if your best game costs you your arm? Your legs?"

"Don't worry about it." Tezuka heard things clacking together – apparently Echizen was digging in his bag. "Today won't be too bad, and I'll be on ice tomorrow."

"No kidding," the man called Freddy said. Then the man sighed. "Well, if you take it easy for the rest of the week, I guess it'll be okay. Just don't blow every joint in your body before the Open."

Tezuka didn't hear Echizen respond, but he did hear the sound of a zipper and then cloth rubbing against cloth. He suddenly realized Echizen was preparing the leave. And the pair would likely turn the corner and up in up right in front of him.

He certainly didn't like the idea of being caught eavesdropping. He was ashamed of himself for doing it in the first place, but then Echizen hadn't mentioned anything about having problems with his arm either.

Tezuka did not move.

As predicted, the pair rounded the corner and stopped two feet in front of him. Tezuka ignored the bald man behind Echizen. The only thing he could focus on was Echizen's eyes which currently were opened to their maximum circumference.

"Tezuka-buchou…"

Something in that golden gaze finally broke the invisible grip on Tezuka's body. His mouth utilized its freedom first.

"You're injured."

Those eyes immediately narrowed.

Nothing else needed to be said. Tezuka's own introduction proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that's he'd overheard the majority of Echizen's conversation. And Echizen's scowl clearly indicated his displeasure at that fact.

Echizen's trainer stepped forward, his own expression almost a mirror of Echizen's. Tezuka blinked. He hadn't noticed before, but most of the man's face and one exposed arm were disfigured, covered in ugly scars as if the man had sustained serious burns years earlier.

Tezuka looked down and bowed stiffly despite his desire to ignore the stranger. "Forgive me for not introducing myself. I am – "

"I know who you are," the man growled.

Tezuka frowned at the resentment he heard behind those words. He straightened, no longer shying away from the elder's glare, his curiosity peaked. "I see."

Echizen appeared to dismiss his own anger, at least for the moment. "Sorry, I guess I should introduce you." He thumbed at the older man. "This is my trainer, Jonathan Mathers, but we just call him Freddy."

Tezuka's eyebrows rose; Echizen shrugged but didn't elaborate.

The man Echizen called Freddy turned his back to Tezuka. "C'mon, Ryoma, we better head on."

Ryoma nodded, then turned away as well. "I'll see you on the court, Buchou," he said over his shoulder.

"Echizen!" Tezuka's call had sounded desperate, even to his own ears, so he cleared his throat to cover it up. But what should he say? He had too many questions running through his mind and too little time to sort them out. "Your arm…"

Echizen stopped mid-step, but he didn't turn back. "I'm not injured."

Tezuka thought he heard a humorless snicker, although with the distance between them, he couldn't be sure. He noticed Echizen raise his left hand in front of his face, curling his fingers a few times.

"I guess I'm just getting old," Echizen muttered. He dropped his arm back to his side, hiding his hand in the depths of his pocket. Then Echizen shrugged. "That's all there is to it."

Tezuka wanted to follow, to ask Echizen to explain himself, to explain _anything_. The reverse déjà vu did not sit well with Tezuka, nor did the confusion of last night's dreams quantified by the discoveries of today.

Again he heard Fuji's words sing through his mind.

Did Echizen tell Fuji anything about this? Surely Fuji would have said something; Fuji was bitter, but Fuji wouldn't have kept something so important from him. Would he?

Tezuka glanced at his watch. He still had a little over an hour before his game. He calculated the time difference in his head, then pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He hesitated over the "talk" button for only an instant.

After the third ring, Tezuka wondered if Fuji would refuse to answer since he was the one calling. He exhaled when the line picked up.

"Well, this is a surprise," Fuji said softly.

"I apologize for calling you unexpectedly."

The silence lasted a few seconds. "It's alright. It is surprising, but not unpleasant I suppose."

"I need to ask you something. About Echizen."

"Echizen?" Fuji sounded much more surprised by that than he had from Tezuka's call. "Ah, that's right, he's playing in the same exhibition you are now. Have you seen him yet?"

Tezuka fought to keep his impatience out of his voice. "Fuji, when the two of you were together last year, did he mention anything about having…problems playing…or…" Tezuka growled. He didn't even know what he wanted to know exactly. His frustration grew.

"He didn't say anything like that to me, no," Fuji answered after a pause. "Tezuka, is something wrong with Echizen?"

There was no doubt the concern clouding Fuji's voice was genuine, which meant Echizen had definitely not said anything to Fuji. For a moment Tezuka wished he hadn't called at all.

"Tezuka?"

"I'm sorry for disturbing you. I'm sure it's nothing."

"You don't do things or ask questions for no reason, Tezuka. Nor do you worry unnecessarily," Fuji sagely replied. "But you don't have to tell me. I will only say that if you have a mystery to solve, you know I'm not the best one to call." Another pause. "Could you hold on for just a moment, Tezuka?"

Tezuka opened his mouth to dismiss himself again, but the line had already gone silent. He sighed and closed his eyes. It was strange. Almost as though they were back in middle school discussing various oddities like they always had. While they were still teammates, rivals, and friends; before they went to high school and evolved into ex-teammates, ex-lovers, only occasional friends.

It took him a minute to register the click which meant he was back on the line. Then another familiar voice came on.

"Tezuka."

Tezuka blinked. "Inui?"

"Fuji tells me you suspect there may be something wrong with Echizen. Please explain."

"Fuji called you?"

"I hope you don't mind," Fuji cut in. "But then you won't be able to focus until you understand what's happened to Echizen, will you?"

Tezuka pinched the bridge of his above his glasses. No, he definitely should not have called.

* * *

**A/N:** First off, I apologize for the lengthy delay. Lots going on, etc. Secondly, thank you for being patient as I (finally) decide where to go with this story. Hopefully the final couple of chapter won't take quite as long to get out.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: First of all, Happy New Year!!!

My sincerest apologies for the lengthy delay. I participated in NaNoWriMo again this year and, although I failed miserably, it was fun nonetheless. Then the holidays came, and there has been shorthanded madness at work. But now I've recovered (somewhat) and am back to wrap this story up. Not in this chapter, but soon. Hopefully. Anyway, thank you for your patience.

**Chapter Eight**

Tezuka snapped his cell phone shut. He shifted his glassed up with one finger and used the rest to massage the bridge of his nose. He wasn't sure how a spur of the moment phone call to Fuji had turned into such a large scale affair, but it had. First Inui had appeared on the line, and the next thing he knew every old Segaku member and a couple other familiar voices had joined in on one big conference call, which had been commandeered by none other than Atobe Keigo. Tezuka still didn't know who'd called him in the first place.

For a moment he recalled a time when he had been able to keep situations like this under control. He lamented that he'd apparently lost that ability since his school days.

However the increase in participation had also added to the hypotheses regarding Echizen's mysterious condition, and Tezuka had to admit that even Atobe's inclusion was helpful in that the man could get one of the world's most noted sports medicine doctors on the phone on a whim. Still, in the end, Tezuka kept going back to something Kikumaru had said:

"Well, maybe Ochibi's telling the truth. I mean, he's been playing in the pro circuit for a long time, right? And it has to be hard to play a lot of those guys, especially in multiple-set matches, when most are physically bigger and stronger than him. So maybe he is just "getting old" like he said…"

Inui too had seemed to give a great deal of consideration to that train of thought. Particularly since Echizen's play style had always been so physically intensive. Sure, Echizen was only twenty years old, but he'd surely put his muscles and joints through more stress playing his type of tennis than most normal people, even normal athletes, would in a lifetime.

But then that brought Tezuka back to a single doubt, one sole regret that had haunted him for some time. One that had now grown considerably stronger.

Had he waited too long?

More importantly, had Echizen been waiting for _him_ all along?

Perhaps people would consider that thinking conceited, but somehow he felt deeply, intrinsically, that Echizen had indeed been waiting. He didn't know why he felt it so keenly at the moment. After all Echizen had opponents like Kevin Smith…

Tezuka dismissed the name and the thoughts it provoked immediately. He was not ready to concede to the younger American in any way. Besides, Echizen had told his trainer that he played against his trainer's wishes for someone besides Kevin Smith. And Echizen himself had admitted it as well, hadn't he? The day they met at the exhibition?

"_I'm glad you're here, Buchou. I was starting to wonder if you'd ever come."_

Yes, Echizen had been waiting for him. Not for any one of many strong opponents. Echizen had waited for _him_, had played beyond his own physical abilities for almost a decade just to prepare for the day he would once again face _him_.

The sense of eureka was bittersweet indeed, and at the moment Tezuka didn't have time to contemplate it deeply. He decided that was a blessing. He had a game to win, and then another, before he could face the cumulative perfection of a match with Echizen Ryoma.

_If_ Echizen was physically capable of playing such a match anymore. And at the moment, Tezuka didn't know if that was possible. He suspected Echizen was the only one who knew the answer to that question.

……….

"Alright, Kevin, just a few more!"

Kevin nodded to his trainer, returning the ball to the opposite end of the practice court. They repeated the action several more times while he gauged the ache in his legs. It wasn't too bad really. The cortisone had kicked in, thankfully, so he felt confident he could play without restraint.

Ryoma however was a different matter. Kevin knew that in Ryoma's current condition, even after treatment, the beautiful Japanese superstar was going to lose this time.

From a tournament standpoint, it wouldn't matter. The game had no effect on their rankings; Ryoma would still be the number one player in the world when it was all said and done. On the other hand Kevin knew Ryoma would stew about it for a while, especially since his old captain would be on the very next court, undoubtedly watching their game while playing his own. Kunimitsu Tezuka was going to have a closer-than-front-row view of Ryoma's defeat.

But would that be such a bad thing? Of course Ryoma would be furious, but his ex-captain…

Kevin gritted his teeth and returned another shot. It was about time that bastard witnessed firsthand what Ryoma had sacrificed over the past eight years. That Tezuka guy needed to see what Ryoma had become while waiting for him to show up on their circuit. Kevin wanted Seigaku's former captain to understand why he wasn't worthy of Ryoma's dedication anymore.

Kunimitsu Tezuka needed to realize why Kevin no longer intended to walk away as he once told himself long ago that he would.

Kevin's trainer deflected the last ball rather than actually returning it, the man's eyes focused over Kevin's shoulder. Kevin turned. He spotted the very center of his musings standing in the doorway.

The infamous ex-captain bowed. "Excuse me for interrupting," he said in smooth, subtly accented English, "but I need to warm up before my match. Do you mind?" He straightened, then jerked his head toward the corner of the room where the concrete practice wall stood.

Kevin pursed his lips and shrugged while biting back a slew of things he wanted to tell the man. "Do what you like. It doesn't matter to me," he said, turning his back to the older player.

There was a long pause. Kevin never expected a response, so he was surprised when Kunimitsu Tezuka suddenly said, "If that's the case, would it be an imposition if I asked you to assist me in my warm-up?"

Kevin blinked. He slung his racket over his shoulder and turned, once again, to the man Ryoma had so desperately respected for as long as Kevin had known and loved his Japanese counterpart.

He recalled the first time he'd seen Kunimitsu Tezuka when he was a kid, but somehow the man seemed bigger now than he remembered. Not just taller or more physically imposing. Just…bigger. It was as though the very air around the man had to move aside to accommodate the overwhelming density of his essence.

_Just like Ryoma…_

The mental comparison annoyed him, but the truth was undeniable, especially now that he was standing so close to the talented newcomer. The strength of Tezuka's stature, the underlying challenge in his otherwise fathomless eyes…

In that respect, and in terms of their damn near primal aesthetic allure, Kunimitsu Tezuka and Ryoma Echizen were almost too much alike.

So this was the man who held Ryoma's ambition so thoroughly and completely. No wonder…

Charisma aside, the man was also a phenomenal athlete. Kevin knew that just by watching a few of Ryoma's tapes over the past several years. Ryoma had often said the man was even more disciplined, even stronger, than he'd been when he led Seigaku's tennis team. And according to Ryoma, Kunimitsu Tezuka had been damn near invincible back then.

Kevin didn't want to warm-up with this man. He wanted to play him. _Really_ play him. He wanted to measure his professionally honed skills against this man he resented on Ryoma's behalf.

But for the moment, a warm-up would have to do. There was a lot one could tell about a player just by feeling the serve against an opposing racket.

Kevin accepted Tezuka's request with quick nod. "You can have this side," he said, walking around the net, positioning himself at the service line.

"All right."

Kevin watched Tezuka drop his bag on the bench nearest to the door. The man's racket was in his left hand a moment later.

"I assume introductions aren't necessary," Tezuka said once he'd placed a few balls in his pockets with one in his hand.

"Nope, they're not."

"I intend to keep it light. I suspect your trainer doesn't want you to overexert yourself."

Kevin's eyes narrowed as he lowered his stance and readied himself. "I wouldn't worry about that if I were you. Besides, you're the one who needs to warm up, right?"

This time it was Tezuka who shrugged as though it didn't matter to him either way. Still, even from a distance, and even behind the glasses, Kevin could see the ignition in Kunimitsu Tezuka's eyes.

He could see the fire, the silent challenge issued from within it, and within that…

_A question?_

Kevin squinted. Surely he misread that. What could the older man possible be curious about? He exuded a confidence in his ability that was unshakable and absolute, his fighting spirit implacable. Was he intrigued by Kevin's notoriety, or was his query related more to Ryoma than to Kevin himself?

Kevin tightened his grip. If that was the case, then Kevin would change that. A lot could be read in one's return, after all.

The Kunimitsu Tezuka served. Kevin knew it wasn't his full strength or skill either, yet he still stood, unmoving and in awe, as the ball ricocheted off the wall behind him. For some reason Ryoma's face flashed through his mind, wearing the same expression he always showed when speaking about his former captain.

Kevin stood straight and acknowledged that respect now, to a degree.

_This…_this _is Kunimitsu Tezuka._

Tezuka pulled another ball out of his pocket, his eyes like laser pointers as they focused on him. "You seemed more alert during your match last night."

Kevin considered the statement. There was meaning behind those words. However he could only guess at what the older man actually implied by them though. "You're probably right. After all, I can't ever slack off when I'm playing Ryoma," Kevin acknowledged after a moment. Then he bent down again, poised at the ready. "I guess I shouldn't slack if I'm up against you either, even if this is just a warm up."

Tezuka's head tilted up although his eyes remained fixed on Kevin's. "No," he said, in Japanese and almost too softly for Kevin to hear, "you most certainly should not."

Only then, as he barely reached and returned the ball Tezuka served next, did Kevin consider that Tezuka was referring to something in addition to, or perhaps something entirely separate from, the game of tennis.

The rally became easier to keep up as Kevin acclimated to his opponent's pace. Of course Tezuka still wasn't using his full power. Kevin assumed that was reserved for his real opponent of the day. Which meant Kunimitsu Tezuka was a monster to be feared without a doubt.

But every monster had a weakness.

"You know, there's something I think I should tell you, right here and now," Kevin said. He shot another return back. "About Ryoma."

Tezuka showed no outward reaction. He shot the ball to the opposite side of the court. "Is it about his condition?"

_So he knows something about that already…_

"No," Kevin managed as he ran to catch the ball, sending the ball in an almost perfectly diagonal track across the net. "It's about Ryoma and me. And you."

This time Tezuka's expression not only changed, but the impact against the ball when it met his racket rang louder. The ball's trajectory sent it right back at Kevin, although the ball was much heavier than it had been previously.

Kevin managed to send it back in a straight line, allowing Tezuka to work his legs a bit by running to catch it. But the weight of that ball had proven he'd struck a nerve. Now to expose it, to see just how much it twitched.

"I used to be okay with how things are, but I can't do that anymore."

Tezuka slammed the ball at him again, even harder. "I have no idea what you mean."

"I mean that," Kevin returned the shot, "even after all these years," his power and resolve increased as he watched Tezuka prepare to meet the shot, "he's still in love with you, and I'm just his Fuji."

Tezuka skidded to a halt. The ball flew right past him. The older man acted as though he hadn't even noticed it was there.

Even Kevin was shocked by the profound change in Tezuka. Had anyone, ever, seen Kunimitsu Tezuka so shaken? From everything Ryoma had told him, he doubted it. That gave him even more strength, even more conviction in his own words.

Kevin drew in a few deep, much needed breaths. "I won't be your fill-in anymore. I love Ryoma." He frowned. "I've watched him struggle; I've witnessed how much he's suffered these last few years, just hoping he'd be good enough for you when you finally showed up. And I've seen what it did to him every time he heard you had the chance to come to him, on his level, and you decided not to. You're the only person whose opinion he ever gave a shit about, and you rejected him. Over and over. But not this time. I won't let it happen again."

Tezuka remained motionless. He just stared.

"You act like you didn't know. That just pisses me off even more," Kevin spat. "Forget it. I think we're done with the warm up anyway."

Tezuka seemed to come back to himself a little. "Wait. I…I don't understand. You said that Echizen…all this time…"

"Christ, you really don't deserve Ryoma. Not that it matters." Kevin strode off the court and thrust his racket into his bag. He snorted as he shouldered his bag. "I think the worst part is, even though he knew you wouldn't give him a second glance once he couldn't play, he still worked so damn hard to meet the expectations he believed you had for him. Especially after he found out about you and that Fuji guy."

Kevin smirked when Tezuka blanched.

"Don't act so insulted. Even though he never said it – hell, maybe he never even consciously realized it – I think he understood what that so-called relationship was really about. You were using Fuji, weren't you? Just using a guy who loved you to keep you company until you could come here and grab the real prize."

Ignoring the darkening expression on Tezuka's face, Kevin continued. "It's actually nothing to be ashamed of on its own. It's not like there aren't plenty of people who'd love to claim Ryoma as theirs. Hell, it's not like he's mine either. He does his own thing most of the time. I wish it were different, and maybe someday it will be, but for now it is what it is."

He realized Tezuka's hands and his racket were actually shaking. He bowed his head. Perhaps he'd gone too far, but it was too late to turn back now. He didn't regret his words so much as he felt almost as though he'd betrayed Ryoma in a way. So he softened his voice, and he could not hide his own sadness as he continued.

"Seriously, just forget about Ryoma. He's not the player you remember. Yeah, he can still play an awesome game, but no matter what anyone else says, the fact is he won't be able to play at this level much longer. His body's thrashed. No doctor in the world can fix him now. He's just…"

………….

Tezuka managed to steady his voice which slashed through the air like a saber once he regained a grip on it. "…gotten old. Or so he told me."

He was rather pleased to see it was Kevin who gaped at him this time, rather than the other way around. The pleasure unfortunately was minute compared to the other emotions he felt at the moment.

So many foreign emotions. Emotions which felt painfully and irreparably convoluted at the moment. Despite his own first, best effort at self-delusion, Kevin Smith's words had struck as only the most damning of truths could.

For the first time in his life, Tezuka actually wished he didn't have the obligation of a scheduled match. In fact, it was one of the very few moments in his life when something, or more accurately that some_one_, held more importance to him than tennis.

………….


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **I apologize for the ridiculous 10 month delay, especially since I've done this in bits and pieces for the past six. I'll save everything else for chapter's end.

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**Chapter Nine**

Tezuka ignored the cheers. He tuned out the announcement of his victory. His body switched to autopilot for the expected handshake with his defeated opponent and a bow to the audience. He covered his racket and grabbed his bag. Pausing only long enough to shove the bag into his stunned manager's chest, he dismissed the waiting reporters with a withering glare.

Tezuka had defeated his opponent in straight sets, but he didn't care. He could only focus on one thing, the preceding announcement for the simultaneous game two courts away.

Right now Echizen and Kevin Smith were tied three-all.

How much longer could Echizen play in his current state? Was Kevin Smith really going all out against Echizen, knowing his lover's - no, his _opponent_'_s_ - condition. Kevin Smith was surely playing his best against Echizen. No doubt Echizen was doing the same, even if his body protested. Their relationship off the court had nothing to do with their match. Whatever the reality of that relationship was.

"_He's still in love with you, and I'm just his Fuji..."_

Tezuka frowned. Even after what happened during high school, he could not properly define what Fuji had been to him. A friend, obviously. An acceptable and worthy opponent, always. Perhaps he even considered Fuji a rival of sorts, despite Fuji's apathy toward competition in general. And he had taken Fuji as his lover for a period, although he never intended it to be permanent. But then he hadn't intended it at all.

However Kevin Smith knew nothing about Fuji or him. Certainly the American player didn't understand enough about them to make such any type of analogy when talking about Echizen.

"_He's still in love with you..."_

Tezuka's frown deepened, and he quickened his pace down the corridor. That assertion by Kevin Smith was...quite simply impossible. Echizen had been a child when he'd attended Seigaku. They'd both been children, really. Both children when Echizen left and made his professional debut, neither capable of feeling so strongly for the other. Twelve and fourteen year old adolescents did not create such strong attachments that one could reasonably call them "being in love." Echizen paid him a certain level of respect during that year, and Tezuka knew Echizen's game evolved considerably thanks to his direct intervention. Because of that, Echizen held him in high enough regard to name him the marker he had to surpass to accept the mantle of a professional tennis player.

And it was true that Tezuka experienced an unusual affinity towards Echizen during his brief tenure in the tennis club. He admitted that to himself readily. Echizen's talent had been unmistakable, his potential without limit. The boy's enigmatic demeanor was alluring to all of them back then. Tezuka couldn't think of a single one of his other Regulars who didn't anticipate the chance to play against Echizen. The young Echizen had allured many players from all over the region before he left for his first US Open. It was only natural, really, to be excited when those golden eyes challenged you from across the net, or even from across the room or from a VIP box in the stands.

But to say Echizen was in love with him based on that? That was not only an inaccurate assertion, but it was a naïve one as well. Even if Echizen had gone to the lengths Kevin Smith claimed during his career in preparation for his senpai's appearance, Tezuka believed the catalyst was Echizen's drive, his competitive nature. It had nothing to do with emotions like love or adoration.

"_I'm glad you're here, Buchou. I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever come."_

Honestly, it was foolish to even consider the notion that Echizen was in love with him, ever had been for that matter.

"_That wasn't supposed to be the end. If I'd believed that, I never would have left."_

The thought...was ludicrous.

"_When I saw Fuji again and he told me about you two, it was like... It was like you'd moved on and forgotten about me."_

Absolutely ludicrous...

Tezuka realized his walk had become a jog. When he noticed how close he was, his pace increased once again. Tezuka turned a sharp corner and reached the doorway leading to the box seats for Court One. He took both tiers of stairs that led up to it in twos. When Tezuka flung the second door open, he stopped for a few precious seconds just to let his eyes adjust to the sunlight outside once again. Then he slid past the curious onlookers around him and claimed one of the empty seats at the end, although he never sat down.

His attention was already captured by the court stretched out before him and the black haired man preparing to serve to his right. A glance at the digital score board showed Kevin Smith has taken a fourth game. The look on Echizen's face alone, even from so far away and hidden beneath the shadow of the brim of his trademark hat, showed he was struggling to continue. Echizen's frustration was evident in his posture, his face, the way he gripped his racket. Tezuka also noted that Echizen's trainer was pacing anxiously near the sideline bench.

_Echizen..._

Echizen's body appeared to tense even more, and the young man straightened. His focus lifted and his head swiveled. Then Echizen's gaze searched for only a moment before Tezuka knew he'd been found.

Echizen stared, and Tezuka unblinkingly stared back until the net judge called out to Echizen to continue the game.

However Echizen's expression had changed. Determination had replaced the signs of pain in his face. His mouth became a thin, firm line, and his brilliant golden eyes narrowed. He bounced the ball a few time, and then served the ball with a grimace. It was a good serve, and it apparently caught Kevin Smith by surprise. Otherwise Tezuka felt certain Echizen would not have gotten the service ace.

The remainder of Echizen's service game did not prove to work out as well as the first; within minutes Kevin Smith had claimed the fifth game. Echizen's visible discomfort returned as well. Tezuka watched with mounting concern as his former teammate moved stiffly back to the service line, switching his racket to his right hand and rotating his left shoulder gingerly.

A quick glance at Kevin Smith proved the blond was equally worried. He never once looked away from Echizen, the American's features drawn, his eyes piercing even from Tezuka's vantage point. No doubt Kevin knew the quickest way to get Echizen off the court. Echizen's pride be damned. Kevin Smith had to defeat Echizen quickly, mercilessly, allowing no opening for a rally. In Echizen's condition, it wouldn't be difficult to do. Tezuka hoped Kevin Smith intended to do just that.

The next series of shots back and forth between Kevin Smith and Echizen however showed yet another obstacle. Echizen's drive had increased once again, probably as a result of Kevin Smith's increasing lead. And Kevin Smith was slowing down. Annoyed that Kevin seemed more inclined to lower his pace that finish the match, Tezuka turned his full attention to Kevin Smith after Echizen took a second straight point.

There was no mistake. Kevin Smith wasn't maintaining his speed, particularly in his footwork. He was taking longer to get from baseline to net, and he seemed to be struggling more and more with shots Echizen sent to the right corner. The decline has not been as obvious while his opponent was struggling. With new life breathed into Echizen's lagging game though, the difference became blatant. Echizen apparently realized Kevin Smith's weakness as well; every third and fourth shot was directed within inches of the apex. Kevin missed three in a row, giving Echizen a fourth game and a glimmer of a comeback.

Tezuka frowned as he watched Kevin Smith limp, slightly but visibly, to his bench for his water and then to the receiver's position. So the change in pace wasn't deliberate. Apparently the American's body was also beginning to feel the strain of the match, compounded most likely by the game the two had played the night before.

Was this just one more thing the two shared, the physical degradation? For some reason the addition of yet another commonality between the two unsettled Tezuka. And surely there was only one reason Kevin Smith had pushed his own body beyond its limits. Rather, there was only one _person _for whom the blond had pushed himself repeatedly.

Was Kevin Smith beyond repair as well, as he'd claimed Echizen was now? But Kevin Smith had already said Echizen and he weren't in a real relationship, so...why go so far?

The conversation he'd overheard that morning between Echizen and his trainer replayed in Tezuka's mind in lieu of his typical situation analysis.

"_Jesus, kid, why do you keep doing this to yourself? All you have to do is play nice and clean, and you'll be good for...well hell, who know how long you could keep going!"_

"_There are some people I can't beat if I play like that."_

A collective gasp from the crowd around him turned Tezuka's full attention off Kevin and back to the game as a whole. His lungs burned from his own sharp intake of breath. Before his brain registered his actions, he launched himself over the railing of the VIP box, landing heavily onto the concrete walkway below, startling several people who had leaned forward in their court side seats for a better look at the scene before them. He ignored them all as well as the twinge now in his own ankles from his impromptu leap. He saw the few stairs left and ran for them immediately.

Never before had the fans of professional tennis seen Ryoma Echizen drop his racket during a match. Nor had anyone, not even Tezuka, witnessed Echizen with both his knees and forehead on the ground, jaw clenched, eyes squeezed shut, his shoulders and back jerking as he struggled for a full breath before choking on it.

Tezuka felt a twinge, albeit empathetic, in his left shoulder as he jumped the stairs entirely and reached the court's edge. Oh yes, if a person experienced that degree of pain once, just once, it was never forgotten. Not in the mind, and definitely not in the body.

The outcome was obvious now. Echizen's game was over.

The trainer, Freddy, was already on the court. He knelt beside Echizen; Kevin Smith appeared within seconds. Both men pulled Echizen up, one under each arm, and half drug him to the court side bench. Tezuka met them there.

Kevin knelt before Echizen while the referee called an official time-out and made his way down from his seat. Freddy however addressed Tezuka.

"Get the hell outta here, rookie," he spat. "You don't belong down here."

Tezuka schooled his features. "I refuse."

Kevin jumped up and turned his icy blue stare to Tezuka. "You heard Freddy. You're not part of this. Get off the court."

"And you obviously heard me as well."

Kevin came around the bench and advanced until he was mere inches from Tezuka. "We told you to get off this court. Ryoma's not your concern anymore."

"I assure you," Tezuka returned darkly, "Echizen has never stopped being my concern."

Both Freddy and Kevin looked more than willing to continue the fight to its end, but the referee interrupted them. Grudgingly, Freddy intercepted the ref's questions about Echizen's condition and his ability to continue the game. Kevin Smith stalked back to his own bench where his trainer now waited.

"Buchou..."

Tezuka remained behind Echizen and swallowed. The younger man's voice was cracking with the effort to keep his tone even. He already knew what was coming.

"I want to finish the match."

Tezuka closed his eyes for a moment. Unfortunately, at this point, Kevin was absolutely right. He had no place in this decision. "Although I would not advise it, whether or not you continue is up to you."

Echizen let out a mix of a snort and a groan. Then he leaned back slowly until his head rested on Tezuka's stomach. Tezuka tensed, but Echizen seemed not to notice. "C'mon, Buchou, let me finish this one. I only need" - Echizen grinned, although it looked more like a grimace from the creases Tezuka could see through the sweaty strands of hair plastered to Echizen's brow - "ten minutes."

Freddy came back then, his jaw set. He ignored Tezuka's presence, or perhaps he was simply avoiding the unusual sight of Tezuka and Echizen together in such a manner. Then again the trainer probably focused only on the most immediate problem.

Freddy cleared his throat and leveled his gaze on his young charge's face. "The ref needs to know if you can keep going or not. Then again, it don't make a damn bit of difference if you can't hold the racket."

"I can hold my racket," Echizen said, closing his eyes and leaning even more heavily onto Tezuka's midsection. "Count on it."

Freddy's expression turned grim. The man crouched in front of Echizen, placing a hand on each of the younger man's knees. "It's an exhibition match, kid. It's not worth killing yourself for, you know that. How about we say to hell with the sponsors and call it a day, huh?"

Freddy had kept his tone light under the circumstances, but the expression on the man's face left no doubt that he feared the consequences should Echizen continue playing his match. Tezuka couldn't disagree. His own desire at the moment was to push for Echizen's forfeiture just to create a better chance – although there certainly was no guarantee anymore – that he would have his own match against the world famous star.

Echizen breathed in so deeply and out so forcefully that Tezuka heard it over the increased murmurs echoing down from the stands. "I won't just quit on a match," he said finally, firmly, "It doesn't matter what kind it is or if it's worth a title. I'd rather take a legitimate loss than just give up a game."

Kevin had paced back to Echizen's bench, and the blond cursed loudly before shouting, "What the hell's wrong with you? Are you that determined to be the tragic hero and lose? To end your entire career?"

"If you can be that big of a drama queen," Echizen quipped with a strained grin, "then I can be a tragic hero." Kevin opened his mouth to respond, but the referee interrupted.

There was not time left, and the crowd feel silent instantly. Everyone knew the decision they'd waited on was imminent. Tezuka however wished he could freeze time indefinitely. This game should never resume, he knew that fact well. But it wasn't his place. Not anymore...

"I won't forfeit," Echizen reiterated – Tezuka felt his stomach clench - and added, "and neither will you," when Kevin once again opened his mouth. Kevin looked mutinous but said nothing. Instead the blond stormed back to his side of the court, snatching his racket from his own bench on the way. Echizen stood as well and bent his limbs gingerly. He groaned when he rotated his left shoulder and flexed his fingers at the same time, but otherwise Echizen seemed to accept his body's current condition as passable.

Tezuka knew better. He suspected Echizen did as well.

As if eavesdropping again, he heard his own voice quietly ask, "Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

Echizen turned back to Tezuka. For a millisecond, if even that long, Tezuka thought he saw a flicker of doubt corrupt Echizen's aureate gaze. Then Echizen smirked. "What would you do, Buchou?"

Tezuka knew it wasn't the question Echizen had asked at all. In fact, there was no question. Echizen may as well have said, "It's no less than what you've done..." It left no argument unless Tezuka wanted to become a hypocrite.

Tezuka was no hypocrite.

So he gave Echizen the single nod that, judging by the younger man's relaxing stance, Echizen had wanted to see before stepping back behind the net. With that Tezuka resolved to remain and watched Echizen fight to the end and inevitably lose his first game of the exhibition series.

Despite how much Echizen struggled after that, how difficult it became for Tezuka to watch as Kevin Smith scored every point remaining, Tezuka did exactly as he'd intended. He stayed, and he watched to the very end of the match.

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**Author's Note, continued...**

First of all, I owe everyone many thanks and many more apologies. I have no good excuse for why this took so long. I can only say I needed a break from writing in general, so I took it. It wasn't my first, and I know it won't be my last. However I was relieved to find that, unlike other times I've backed away from writing for any length of time, the story I left hanging was the one I was able to come back to. Those who know me well and have followed my previous works in other fandoms are familiar with my story completion rate, which is marginal at best.

Needless to say, I'm glad to be back. The bad news is that it's almost November again, and November mean NaNoWriMo. So here's your warning – I will be out of pocket next month, completely. The good news is that this shouldn't take more than two more chapters to wrap up. Maybe I can get the final chapter up by New Year's Eve this year...I wouldn't mind ending the year with one more completed story under my belt.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Yes, I know it's been ten months since I updated. I offer no excuses, and I'm sad to report this chapter is little more than an emo marathon. Unfortunately this is what happens when my urge to write runs concurrent with a downward mood swing. Sorry guys.

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**Chapter Ten**

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Ryoma remembered little of the match's conclusion, but only one thing mattered. He'd lost. In retrospect a part of his mind acknowledged that he should not have been able to finish at all. That didn't take away the sting however.

And God, how he stung now. His entire body felt like someone had tried to tear him into separate pieces, and he was currently held only at each joint by the string of nerves which screamed curses in tandem. His brain registered voices from outside above the roar within, but he didn't focus on any of those. The faster the pain registered in his brain, the more likely he'd become so overwhelmed he'd just pass out and feel nothing for a while.

His consciousness fled for a few minutes here and there, but each time he woke again, his mind was a little clearer. Because of that, he did not escape the physician's examination. Nor did he miss the argument that ensued afterward, although he kept his eyes closed and tried desperately to drift back into oblivion.

"That's it. He's done with the exhibition." _Freddy, you bastard. _"He can't afford another game like that."

Kevin's voice followed. "Yeah, I think that'd be best. He'll need at least two weeks of down time just to begin training for the next Open as it stands now."

Ryoma heard Freddy snarl. "I don't want to hear shit from you, dumbass. It's your fault he's in this condition in the first place." A tired sigh. "I'm gonna call the admin and let him know Ryoma's off the roster. If we're lucky, we can get back to New York and start treatment by tomorrow afternoon."

When silence followed, Ryoma could only assume Freddy's statement had hit Kevin hard. Of course it wasn't Kevin's fault; he'd wanted to play all out. He wished he had more breath to offer to make that argument. And who the hell did Freddy think he was, deciding to remove him from the rest of the games without even consulting him?

"I believe you should speak with Echizen before any decision is made."

Ryoma's eyes opened then, and an even greater clarity blessed his previously fuzzy mind. An unexpected lungful of air entered his lungs making him wince. Still the voice meant more to him than any measure of physical comfort he'd been seeking since he'd left the court.

_Tezuka-buchou..._

"Not that it's any of your business," Freddy growled, "but I don't care what you think, rookie. Ryoma's my responsibility. I promised his dad I'd watch out for him since he damn sure won't do it for himself. That's what I'm gonna do."

"Echizen's father would agree that any decision should be made by Echizen himself."

Echizen managed to shift enough on the medical table he lay on to turn his head and look out the door into the hallway and the source of the escalating commotion. Freddy bowed up and got into Tezuka's face. To Tezuka's credit, he never even flinched. His stance remained straight and his expression commanding. Ryoma peeked at Kevin and felt more than a little annoyed to see the blond American stand there, just watching as though the events unfolding were in a movie.

Freddy shook a finger in Tezuka's face. "You need to get out of here, rookie, or I'm gonna put you out myself. You don't belong here, and I'm not gonna listen to any more of your shit."

"That would not be wise. I'm here to offer Echizen a chance to have a second opinion on his current condition." Before Freddy could continue and Echizen could moan in protest, Tezuka continued. "If my specialists concur that he should not continue the exhibition, then I will personally encourage him to return home immediately. Or if he'd prefer" - Tezuka's hand moved over his left shoulder - "I would recommend a facility in Europe for his rehabilitation which has worked miracles for many tennis players who may have otherwise had to prematurely end their careers."

"What the hell do you care what happens to Ryoma? It's better for you if he ain't in top shape," Freddy snarled.

To Ryoma's amazement, Tezuka's demeanor morphed within a millisecond. Suddenly even Freddy stepped back even though Tezuka's body never moved. It simply appeared to have gotten...bigger, even more imposing than it could seem when standing across the court from him...

Tezuka's voice, still clear, was just above a growl. "I assure you, I have never had, nor do I ever intend to have, a match with Echizen unless he is at his very best, both physically and mentally."

"Then why are you here?" Freddy asked impetuously. "Shouldn't you be practicing or something?"

Ryoma heard the deep breath Tezuka took, not realizing he too inhaled in time with his form tennis captain. A few more followed before Tezuka's answer came.

"I have spent my life perfecting my tennis, and yes, I should continue to train for the matches ahead." Tezuka's chin lifted a little higher, unapologetically, "And I do not want you to misunderstand. I look forward to playing Echizen again. I have done everything to ensure I will be a challenging opponent for him, but if that does not happen, so be it. It may be too little too late, but I only want to support Echizen right now. Whether he can play or not is irrelevant."

Ryoma felt like he'd been teleported into a vacuum. The oxygen had been stolen from around him, and all that remained were emotions thicker than granite and even harder to digest. He could only continue to stare. He felt slightly vindicated that Freddy also looked taken aback by Tezuka's statement. Kevin, he noted, looked mutinous but thankfully kept whatever was raging behind those blue eyes to himself.

It seemed like an eternity before Freddy huffed and muttered, "Take him to whoever you want, but I'm gonna be there to make sure it's on the up-and-up."

"Of course," Tezuka agreed. "And Echizen does not have to leave the hotel. The physician I suggested is already on his way here, and he should have with him all of the equipment necessary to properly care for Echizen. As a matter of fact," Tezuka said as he glanced at his watch, "he may already have arrived."

"That's damn convenient," Freddy quipped. Ryoma could tell Freddy was far from convinced.

Tezuka did not acknowledge the insinuation. He simply nodded in agreement. "Indeed, but then he too has a vested interest in Echizen's well being."

Ryoma scowled and tried to run through the list of people who Tezuka could have called on such short notice. Especially here in America. The only orthopedic and sports medicine specialist Tezuka and he both knew was...

"Oh shit, not him."

Everyone in the hallway jerked their heads in Ryoma's direction just as he realized he'd moaned the feeling out loud. Not that he cared at this point. There was no way he'd have come all the way from Kyoto...

Tezuka entered the room first, followed closely by Freddy while Kevin tired to squeeze in next to him, unsuccessfully Ryoma noticed with a pained smirk. Kevin did however manage to get to his bedside first.

"Ryoma...are you okay?" he asked, his eyes wide with more concern than Ryoma cared to see.

"I feel like hell, what do you think?"

He took a breath to try to sit up, but a strong hand caught his other shoulder so lightly he felt no pain from it. He only felt heat and presence, and the latter was enough to keep him on his back.

Tezuka frowned, ignoring Kevin completely. "Do not try to get up."

"You're not talking about who I think you are, right?" Ryoma asked quickly.

Tezuka's eyebrow quirked up, and light danced behind his glasses. "I'm sure I don't know to whom you are referring."

"Cut the crap, Buchou."

Tezuka shrugged, although Ryoma's eyes narrowed as Tezuka continued, except he switched from his eloquent English back to their native Japanese. "Would you rather be removed from the rest of the exhibition? Your trainer would be more than happy to make the call tonight."

Just hearing those words - in any language - from Tezuka sent prickles of anger and disgust through Ryoma's gut. Back out of the series before he had a chance to play the one match he'd waited for, planned on, even fantasized about, all these years? Not a chance in hell.

Ryoma huffed and followed Tezuka's example. He would have preferred to have a conversation in private, but his would do for the moment. "You better let him know that if he brings out a thermos, I'm leaving right then and there."

"Thankfully he uses more..._refined_ methods these days," Tezuka replied delicately.

Kevin, who had resembled a volcano on the verge of eruption during the conversation he obviously couldn't understand between Tezuka and Ryoma, finally blew. "Okay, for those of us who can't read minds and don't speak fifty different languages, who the hell are you two talking about?"

Ryoma sighed in defeat, choosing to placate the volatile blond. "You've met him before. Sadaharu Inui, do you remember?"

Kevin's brow furrowed until it appeared to click. The American's jaw dropped. "You're kidding." Kevin turned his incredulous gaze onto Tezuka. "Why would he agree to come all the way to LA to check on Ryoma just because you asked him to?"

"I did not ask Inui to come; he chose to do so on his own," Tezuka stated, as though such an act was as inevitable as finding hamburgers listed on a fast food menu. "As I said before, he too has a vested interest in Echizen's well being."

Kevin spluttered, "But...why?"

"If you have the opportunity to do so, perhaps you should ask him yourself," Tezuka responded.

.

As predicted, Inui called within minutes and stated he had already checked into the hotel. Tezuka could not help but feel amused when the man apologized for the delay - apparently he'd had some issues getting his equipment through customs.

Tezuka met his old friend at the elevator in the lobby and shook his hand. "Thank you for coming."

Inui smiled and patted Tezuka's shoulder, his face reassuring even though Tezuka felt sure he'd not projected the worry which made him feel physically ill.

Inui led him into the elevator. "Relax, Tezuka. I will do everything I can for him, no matter how long it takes. I've already spoken to a colleague here, should we need anything I do not have on hand."

Obviously, Tezuka berated himself silently, he wasn't doing a very good job of hiding anything at the moment. When did he become so transparent?

Tezuka was so distracted by his brewing inner turmoil that it wasn't until the elevator bell chimed that he realized they were several floors below Echizen's suite. He turned an inquisitive eye to Inui and was answered with an apologetic shrug as he motioned Tezuka to follow him.

"I felt it better that you know before I brought Echizen down for examination," Inui stated vaguely.

"Know what?" The last thing Tezuka wanted at the moment was another unpleasant surprise.

Inui seemed to recognize that, but as he entered the keycard into the door lock, he made no attempt to hide that Tezuka was in for just that when he cracked the door and turned back to Tezuka.

"I am not the only one who came to see Echizen."

The floor seemed unstable under Tezuka's feet suddenly. If it had been anyone else, Inui would have come out and said so without the innuendo. Tezuka did his best to master his discomfort. His focus had to be on Echizen now, and surely the younger man would be glad to see another familiar face...a very familiar face indeed...

Tezuka stopped that train of thought immediately. He took a deep breath and pushed through the door past Inui. No need to prolong this meeting. Indeed, as he got his first look at his ex-lover in years, he knew this meeting had been inevitable despite his best efforts to avoid it.

Fuji's expression mirrored his own. Laserpointer blue eyes opened and focused in like a homing device. "Tezuka," Fuji greeted softly, his voice gentle as a lullaby.

Tezuka sighed. "Hello, Fuji."

"I'll leave you two alone," Inui interjected from the doorway. "I have a patient to collect. Excuse me."

As soon as the door closed, a small frown meandered onto the former tennis prodigy's face. "You look tired, Tezuka. Are you all right?"

"You need not worry about me," Tezuka replied matter-of-factly. "This is about Echizen, nothing else."

Assuming he'd effectively ended the pointless chitchat, Tezuka prepared to take his leave when Fuji suddenly stepped forward, wrapping his arms around his waist and burying his face in the crook Tezuka's neck. The shock and sudden rush of memories immobilized Tezuka for a moment.

"Please don't do that, Tezuka," Fuji pleaded softly. "No matter what may have happened between us in the past, you need a friend right now as much as Echizen. Maybe even more so. After all, it must be terrible for you."

Tezuka swallowed hard. "I don't know what you mean."

"It's difficult to see a person you love in pain, especially when you feel like you may have been the one who caused it."

Tezuka stiffened even more and did not raise his arms to return the embrace. Still he could not find the strength to push Fuji away either.

Fuji continued despite the lack of reciprocation. "I know you too well, Tezuka, and I know what has been going on beneath the illusion of stoicism. You have to be reasonable. None of this is your fault. Echizen would have pushed himself beyond his own limits all these years even if you had gone to him at your first opportunity. He may have even pushed himself more, had you become a pro before this point."

Tezuka pushed his voice past the clenched muscles in his throat. "Is that so?"

"It is," Fuji said firmly. He pulled away and took Tezuka's face into his hands, which Tezuka again could not seem to combat. "You must know by now that being so close to you would have driven Echizen mad. He's waited and tried to prepare for you to come, yes, but what he's held onto is memories and convoluted emotions inherited from childhood. He would have worked even harder, would have pushed himself beyond reason, had you presented him with something more tangible before now. He would have crossed through hell itself ten times over just to keep your eyes on no one but him, on and off the court." Fuji smiled sadly. "Believe me, Tezuka. I do speak from experience, you know."

"Are you speaking from your experience with him, or with me?" Tezuka managed.

Fuji's smile faded slightly. "Both, unfortunately. Somehow I managed to become dreadfully attracted to the two men whose hearts already belonged to one another, leaving me no chance to claim either one. It sounds overly dramatic, I admit, but" - Fuji shrugged - "that's how it turned out nonetheless."

Tezuka wasn't sure how to respond, so he simply said the only coherent thought he translate verbally. "I am sorry, Fuji."

"I admit that I was bitter, and it was easy to blame you." Fuji sighed and dropped his arms so he could fold them loosely over his chest. "And I said some things to Echizen that I shouldn't have. I'm sorry, Tezuka. I may have made things harder for you now."

"Do not concern yourself with me," Tezuka said, and he meant it. Indeed he felt as though Fuji had single-handedly removed some of the weight from his consciousness. He was grateful for the reprieve, and he silently reminded himself that he could not afford to waste it. "Inui should be back with Echizen and his entourage soon. Do you want to wait and see his condition for yourself? It may be...a bit startling," Tezuka admitted.

Fuji nodded, his face showing his resolve. "I do want to see him, if you don't mind."

Tezuka shook his head. "I don't mind."

"Thank you." Fuji smiled again. "I feel as though I owe him an apology as well. Do you think he'll understand, that he will forgive me for being so selfish?"

"I believe Echizen will feel the same way that I do," Tezuka replied, "that there is nothing for which you need to be forgiven."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I'm saving comments for the end this time. Enjoy.

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**Chapter Eleven**

**.**

"It's been awhile, Echizen. I wish I was seeing you under different circumstances."

Ryoma couldn't help but grin, however slightly. There was something both comforting and frightening in Inui's self-introduction as the bespectacled man entered the exam room and offered Freddie, standing stoically against the wall, a more formal greeting and handshake.

"Yeah, me too," Ryoma moaned. "I'd much rather meet you on a tennis court than here any day. At least then I know what you're going to do." Ryoma noticed the questioning look on Freddie's face and offered only, "Inui-sempai's the extreme data tennis monster," as an explanation.

"I concur that a match with you would certainly be…interesting," Inui admitted. "However I would surely disappoint you at my current level. After all, I have not played a serious tennis match since high school."

"It's never too late to fix that."

Inui actually looked nostalgic for a split second as he dropped a small duffel bag in the corner, or Ryoma believed he did. The expression vanished as soon as it had appeared, forcing Ryoma to question if it had ever been there at all. Inui was a doctor now, not a tennis player. Although Ryoma had a hard time believing Inui had forgotten how invigorated, how _alive_ a good match could make you feel.

"I dare say even I could beat you in your current state," Inui replied finally.

"A first year trainee could beat his dumb ass right now," Freddie interjected, scowling even more deeply than normal. "He doesn't know his own limits. That's his biggest problem."

Inui chuckled. "I'm only comforted in knowing Echizen has limits. There was a time when we wondered if that was the case."

"Just call me your everyday pillar," Ryoma huffed, "even if I am a cracked one at the moment."

Inui agreed with a single nod. "So why don't we work on correcting that problem, shall we?"

So Inui was ready to get to it. Fine. "You just make sure I can play Buchou in two days," Ryoma growled as he dragged himself into a sitting position and struggled out of his polo shirt with Inui's help. "Whether he wants to or not."

Inui snickered and steadied Ryoma gently. He began to inspect each joint and muscle area with fingers and eyes that bespoke volumes of stored knowledge and quite a bit of experience to go with it. "Do not let his calm demeanor fool you. He wants to play you, Echizen. If I had any doubt of that I would not have offered to come. There are plenty of competent doctors here, but I owe Tezuka and you a great deal. This is the best I can do in order to repay both of you."

"What do you – ah, damn it!" Ryoma clenched his jaw and tried to breathe through the more painful shoulder area Inui examined.

"What I mean," Inui finished for him, as he rotated Ryoma's left shoulder slowly, "is that if it weren't for Tezuka, I would never have gotten into sports of any kind. And if it weren't for you, I would have never realized that tennis was not what I was meant to do ultimately. There is no way I could compete with the likes of Echizen Ryoma and Tezuka Kunimitsu. Or your American friend for that matter. Kevin Smith."

"Kevin's nothing compared to Tezuka-buchou," Echizen growled, both from discomfort as Inui poked his right shoulder and in intrinsic rebellion against the comparison.

"Watch your mouth," Freddie spat. "That kid wiped the court with you today."

Inui shrugged and moved to Ryoma's left elbow. "Perhaps, perhaps not. As for comparing Tezuka to Kevin Smith, they have not played against one another, so I have no data to use to make that determination. No one can really say."

"I can."

Inui seemed to accept Ryoma's words without further argument. Instead Inui retrieved his bag and bid Ryoma to lie back down. "I would try to relax if I were you," he commanded gently. "This will not be the most pleasant experience of your career, although I can say with relative certainty that it will take care of the immediate problems you face."

Ryoma frowned. "_Relative_ certainty? What the hell does that mean?"

Inui just shrugged and went to work.

.

Tezuka led Fuji up the last few floors via staircase rather than the elevator – Fuji seemed just as eager to prolong his meeting with Echizen as Tezuka himself had originally. He also understood Fuji's hesitation. Not only was Echizen in degraded physical condition, but Fuji's last encounter with Echizen would certainly make this reunion awkward at best. Then again Fuji had an amazing way of embracing people in comfort and reassuring their otherwise lonely, confused souls. Tezuka knew of Fuji's talent in that area, for better and for worse.

Still they did arrive, and Tezuka offered Fuji a reassuring nod before the smaller man pushed open the door obviously left cracked open for Tezuka.

As soon as the Japanese pair entered the living room area, they were greeted by the garbled sounds of sporadic talking from Echizen's makeshift exam room and a visually infuriated blond haired American sitting against the other side of the wall. Kevin Smith jumped off the couch he had been slouching on and sent a blazing glare over Fuji's head, Tezuka's way. Either Kevin Smith was too angry to notice Fuji standing in front of him, or the younger American just didn't care. Tezuka had no idea why the youngest man suddenly appeared more aggressive than the last time they met.

"We're playing a match. _Right now_."

Tezuka blinked. His brow furrowed once Kevin Smith's challenge actually registered in his brain. "Excuse me?"

"I said –"

"I believe what Tezuka is trying to ask," Fuji interjected sweetly, "is why you wish to play him so suddenly."

Kevin gaped at Fuji for a few minutes – obviously the young player had not taken notice of Fuji's presence after all, or he had not recognized him at first – before responding. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Fuji's smile curved up a little more. "I came to see Echizen, of course."

"Go away. This has nothing to do with you." Kevin smiled with feral indignation. "Besides, you're just one of Ryoma's has-beens, aren't you?"

Fuji's ethereal smile diminished slightly, and his eyes opened to compensate. "Perhaps," he muttered after a moment as he glided closer to Kevin, "but then aren't we all? We were each a placeholder of sorts, don't you think?"

Kevin's face reddened in harsh contrast to his golden hair. "Like hell. Maybe you were, but not-"

Before the American finished his sentence, Fuji had closed the remaining distance and took the blonde's face into his thin hands. "Indeed if you feel you're an exception, why do you feel so threatened? You feel him slipping away, don't you? Surely you do, even now." Fuji caressed Kevin's cheeks empathetically, gently, his nails leaving minute white lines across Kevin's quickly paling skin. "Some things are simply not meant to last forever, and some things are destined to be, no matter how much we fight to change that fact. Do you believe I am wrong?"

While Kevin remained quiet, obviously entrapped by Fuji's spell song, Tezuka had to suppress the shudder he felt as Fuji continued using soft words with lethal intent. He knew Fuji's velveteen poison all too well, and hearing it as a third-party observer made it no less disturbing. Despite that he selfishly allowed his former teammate to continue. After all, he didn't completely disagree with Fuji. Really, if his own eyes had been opened to the reality of the confusion Echizen felt within the realm of his emotions, surely Kevin had suspected it for a long time. Then there were his own feelings to consider, on which he felt a bit more clarified if not entirely familiar or comfortable.

Tezuka's internal conference came to a swift halt, along with Fuji's destructive song, as the adjoining door swung open suddenly and Inui appeared in the doorway.

"Good," Inui said specifically to Tezuka, "I was hoping you'd be here when we finished."

"How is he?" Kevin jumped in, pushing Fuji a few steps back.

Inui's expression became thoughtful. "Echizen has been better, I'm sure. However if he follows my instructions over the next twenty-four hours, his condition will improve enough to allow him to finish the exhibition."

"And his long-term prognosis?" Fuji asked softly, and Tezuka silently thanked him for asking the question he himself had not dared to yet. That he may never have been able to properly vocalize.

"That," Inui sighed, "is a different matter entirely. "I cannot be certain, but I suspect the damage in his left shoulder, elbow, and right leg may be irreversible without a great deal of surgery and physical therapy. Even that may not be enough, although he could play at the current professional level for a few more years."

"Except against the most extraordinary of opponents," Fuji mumbled, his face betraying his horror. "That is what you mean, isn't it, Inui?"

"Unfortunately, yes, that is precisely what I mean," Inui concurred.

Tezuka finally found his voice, somehow, and retrieved in from the bottom of the pit that had developed in his stomach. "You've told Echizen this as well?"

"I did," Inui confirmed. "I was concerned how Echizen would react, but as a doctor I had no choice but to inform him of the extent of his injuries. I am surprised though; his trainer seemed more unsettled by the news than Echizen himself."

Tezuka wasn't sure if he was the only one who heard Kevin mutter, "I'm not surprised," or everyone else chose not to acknowledge Kevin's answer.

Tezuka was in complete agreement with Kevin. Echizen had not been surprised because no one, not even Kevin, would know Echizen's body better than Echizen himself. No doubt the youngest of Tezuka's old regulars had known his condition had been degrading with every game. It was only lucky that most opponents did not require much effort on Echizen's part to conquer. And Kevin no doubt, whether consciously or not, probably did not make a habit of pushing Echizen as hard in regulation matches as he had the previous night.

Now that Tezuka had come onto the professional stage, Echizen would have had to work that much harder, because Tezuka would most definitely not avoid pushing Echizen as he always had.

"At the moment though, I believe Echizen would appreciate a distraction. You're welcome to go in and see him," Inui prompted. Kevin raced in without a second glance, but Fuji waited until Tezuka nodded and took a step to follow him inside.

Inui's hand on his shoulder stopped him. "There is one more thing that I need to tell you specifically, Tezuka," he said and motioned for Tezuka to go into the hallway.

Once Tezuka complied and Inui closed the door behind them, Inui's expression became grave. "He wants to play you in this exhibition, even now."

"Indeed." Tezuka knew there was more to it, and he waited for Inui to confirm what he felt – no, what he feared – Inui would say next.

Inui nodded. "I can help him do so, but if he plays you all-out as I know he will, I fear that game will be his last."

_That game will be his last. _"Do you mean-"

"The stress on his body will cause more damage to what is already damaged. It will likely be impossible to repair completely. His professional career will be over."

Tezuka pushed down the bile that crept up his throat and forced himself to remain calm, at least on the exterior. "I suppose you told him that as well?"

Inui nodded a confirmation, his expression distant. "His reaction was noteworthy indeed. Most interesting…"

"So," Tezuka stated deliberatively, "I need to convince Echizen to withdraw from this competition after all."

"Perhaps, or perhaps you should take this" – Inui produced a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Tezuka – "and assist him in completing this regimen while he decides for himself between now and Friday what he truly wants, and what he can realistically have at this stage of his career. And more importantly, what he can have in his life at this time, whether it should include a continued professional career."

As Inui began to walk away, Tezuka admitted, "I do not know how to help him."

Inui seemingly ignored the comment, but called over his shoulder instead. "His physical regimen is on the paper. Please report the results to me, Tezuka. I would very much like to add that data to my files. Of course I've collected such fascinating data already, but the outcome of this situation will provide the best…"

Tezuka could no longer hear Inui as the player turned the corner. He was alone for the moment, and he felt utterly lost. How could Inui expect him to help Echizen destroy his career? Or perhaps Inui assumed that if Tezuka allowed Echizen to make the decision on his own, he would be more likely to make the better one? Echizen was impulsive, but surely a day would help the younger player purge his impatient desires so he could focus on the future before him.

Tezuka frowned. Echizen had grown up in some ways, yes, but Tezuka had little faith that Echizen had changed in such a fundamental way. His previous actions so far indicated so as far as Tezuka was concerned. So…what was he supposed to do? Was there anything he could do? Was it too late? True, he was no longer Echizen's tennis captain, but when did he become so powerless to help one of his own?

He lost track of how long he stood in the hallway, captive to his own morose thoughts. His reverie was broken however, very suddenly, by fingers snapping about three inches from his nose. He jerked up front and center, and he was met with a searing golden gaze.

"You don't have time to daydream, Buchou," Echizen said. "We have work to do."

Tezuka blinked a few times to clear his head before responding. "Do we?"

Echizen tapped the forgotten paper clutched in Tezuka's hand. "You ready to go, or do you need to go back to your room first?"

"Go? Where?" Tezuka clenched his jaw. Since when did he allow himself to sound so unsure of a situation?

Echizen appeared unfazed. "We're hitting the spa. Are you ready or not?"

Tezuka gave himself a second to collect his thoughts. "What about Fuji and Kevin Smith? Perhaps one of them would be better suited to-"

"Not a chance," Echizen interrupted firmly. "It has to be you."

"Does it?"

"Yes." Echizen jabbed his thumb toward the elevator. "You owe me, after all, and we have something we need to get straight over the next couple days." Echizen flashed a mischievous grin before walking, a slight but improved limp apparent, toward the elevator. "You need to try to convince me not to play you right now, and I need to convince you that I can't be convinced." Echizen pushed the down button and glanced back. "That about sums it up, doesn't it, Tezuka-buchou?"

Tezuka marveled at how Echizen had turned something he'd found so complex minutes earlier into something so simple. Without another moment's hesitation, Tezuka joined Echizen at the elevator doors.

Indeed, Echizen had summed it up perfectly.

.

A/N: I tried to get this one out in better time than my previous updates. I can't guarantee the quality, but it gets me where I need to be for the next chapter. Yeah, next chapter this story earns its rating, warnings, etc. So if you don't know what YAOI is or if you're not sure if you like depictions of sex between two men, skip the next chapter. Or at the very least, read up on what you're in for before the next chapter is posted.

Thank you for reading! 


	12. Chapter 12

**Warning**: Let me reiterate what I said at the end of the last chapter: this story is **YAOI**. If you haven't already figured out what that is, please look it up. Seriously. While the last couple tidbits in previous chapters were sex _skims_ and would be less offensive to those who may not care for the devil in the details, this chapter contains a sex _scene_. And we yaoi fans love our devils.

With that said, the majority are ready for me to get on with it.

**.**

**Chapter Twelve**

**.**

Tezuka had been briefed upon arrival of the hotel's extensive guest facilities, but he was still surprised when Echizen led him out of the elevator on the second floor rather than heading for the lobby. Echizen appeared to note his silent inquiry after glancing at his watch.

"Inui already set it up. They're letting us have it after hours for my 'therapy'."

Tezuka acknowledged that with a nod as Echizen passed the glass double-doors which declared 'Guest Spa Services – By Appointment Only" and instead swiped his keycard through the reader on an unmarked door further down the hall. At least Echizen sounded incredulous about Inui's one-day regimen; that would make his job of convincing Echizen to withdraw from the exhibition easier. Tezuka also had his doubts. If Echizen's overall physical condition was so bad one more match could do irrevocable damage, then Tezuka could not comprehend what Inui had devised which would make Echizen fit to play, especially against Tezuka himself, in less than thirty-six hours.

However Tezuka felt more confident that the time frame was more than sufficient to talk sense into Echizen, no matter how stubborn his former teammate could be.

When they entered the first thing Tezuka noticed was the sound of water swirling in contained areas. For the first time he actually began to read Inui's instructions. His eyebrows rose immediately.

"These instructions are rather…"

"Unconventional?" Echizen supplied dryly. Tezuka didn't give preference over either insertion; he simply nodded. Echizen snorted. "Yeah, that's a polite way to put it. This is going to suck." Then Echizen flashed a grim smile. "But at least I won't suffer alone, right?"

Tezuka's mouth formed a grim line. He had committed to helping Echizen after all, no matter what. "Indeed."

"Don't worry. Thanks to the damn near illegal doses of cortisone Inui slipped me for the problem areas, I should be able to get by on my own for a while."

"And what are those 'problem areas'?" Tezuka dared to inquire. He was rewarded with that championship smile that could have been pulled from a magazine cover.

"Everywhere."

That explained the more unconventional idea of the pools, Tezuka reasoned. There were only so many places you could put a cold pack on the human body after all.

Without added ceremony, Echizen pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it haphazardly onto a bench against the wall. Tezuka stared for several seconds before he realized he needed to do the same thing. He averted his gaze, unbuttoned his own shirt, and reminded himself that he'd seen all of his regulars, including Echizen, changing in the locker room at the tennis club. There was no reason to feel uncomfortable or…anything else…towards Echizen.

Except that this was not the tennis club, and neither he nor Echizen were children anymore.

Braving another look as he deliberately removed his own clothing, every inch of Echizen's exposed skin supported that fact Tezuka was trying so hard to forget. Not only had the younger player grown taller over the years, but as Echizen stepped out of his sweatpants, the muscles along his arms, back, and legs bespoke his years as a professional tennis player. His flawless skin had tanned as well, Tezuka noted, although it still paled against the haphazard black hair that almost reached his shoulders in the back. Tezuka removed the rest of his clothes and his glasses, leaving only his boxers, using it as an excuse to tear his gaze away once again. He was thankful that the next time he saw Echizen his vision would be less than perfect. With any luck that would be enough to keep him from fixating on Echizen's painfully too-grown-up physique any longer.

When he heard Echizen toss his last piece of clothing aside and walk towards the pool Tezuka looked at him out of reflex. His nearsightedness blurred the image, true, but there was no way to miss Echizen's naked form moving toward the cold whirlpool.

Tezuka wondered who really needed the frigid water more at this point – Echizen or him.

Desperate to regain his composure before joining Echizen in the water, frustrated that he seemed less and less able to do so, Tezuka put Inui's instructions up to his nose and read them again while Echizen entered the Jacuzzi. And then he read them again. And again.

Ten minutes in the cold pool. Basic stretches and exertion exercises for twenty minutes–Tezuka wasn't sure what Inui meant by his side note 'be creative' since it seemed self-explanatory. Thirty minutes in the hot pool. Repeat all steps again. Eight hours of bed rest. Follow-up examination at noon.

Tezuka omitted the remaining notes as he assumed it would depend mainly on Echizen's condition in the morning, or if Tezuka could talk some sense into him by that time. That reminder helped Tezuka refocus on his main purpose. He needed to take this time to convince Echizen that playing his final game in the exhibition was not in his best interest, that there would be plenty of time to face strong opponents, namely Tezuka himself, in the future.

With his thoughts back on track, Tezuka replaced the paper in his pants pocket and did a time check. He swore softly when he realized his musings had lasted eight of Echizen's ten minutes.

"Echizen?"

"St-still w-waiting on y-you," Echizen called back. "G-get in here, B-buchou. The w-water's gr-great."

Tezuka smiled minutely. "I'm sure it is, but I'm afraid you've only got," he stated and checked his watch again as he made his way past the hot tub and stood at the edge of the cold water Jacuzzi, "one more minute."

Having crouched down so that only the nose-up was out of the water, when Echizen huffed, it sent extra bubbles up to the surface of the water. Otherwise he remained still until Tezuka nodded at the ten-minute mark. Echizen nodded stiffly and stood up and shivered. He immediately followed that by shaking his wet hair a few times before sweeping it out of his eyes with both hands. At full height, he was treading in the water up to his hips, so when he lifted his arms...

The sufficiently clear image nearly hijacked Tezuka's train of thought for a third time. Indeed Tezuka could appreciate general aesthetics and good proportion on anyone with modest detachment. It was one of the more attractive aspects about Fuji. Indeed he'd initially been intrigued by Fuji's romantic advances for just those reasons when combined with their personal rivalry throughout middle and high school. But Fuji looked very delicate, feminine, ethereal. It was as though his physical appearance offered the best indication of the psychology behind the former Seigaku prodigy: an impeccable outer layer contained a kaleidoscope of emotions enforced by the wrath of Ares when threatened or jilted in any way.

In contrast, there was nothing feminine about Echizen. His body, his demeanor, _everything_ left no doubt that he was devilishly beautiful, but he was wholly and exceptionally masculine. From the trademark smirk down to his—

Tezuka attempted to clear his head, something he was finding himself having to do much too often this evening. Giving up on complete disregard, he resolutely tried to shove unnecessary ideas to the back of his mind and attend to the more important matter at hand. His goal was to help Echizen. That was his only ambition, his guiding desire. His goal was to help Echizen. Nothing more than that. His goal was to help Echizen…

Suddenly Tezuka became aware of certain details simultaneously. First, he had been staring at Echizen the entire time he'd been standing there, his breathing abnormally shallow and loud enough to hear throughout the room, his hands clenched at his sides. Secondly and to Tezuka's greater mortification, this time Echizen had obviously caught him in the act; there was no doubt despite Tezuka's lack of ocular clarity that the younger man had his eyes trained like a guided missile onto his expression. Thirdly, most disturbingly, Echizen had made no attempt to stop him, to negate his blatant avarice in any way.

All excuses and apologies deserted Tezuka under Echizen's brazen scrutiny. For the first time in his life, Tezuka felt like he might be getting himself into a situation that could spiral, or may have already leapt, out of his control.

**.**

Ryoma was still speechless. His brain however had gone into overdrive.

At first he'd been a little ticked off that Tezuka-buchou had stalled so long that he hadn't had company to go along with his misery while he was neck deep in the torturous water. Then Tezuka had appeared poolside, bare save for his boxer shorts, and Ryoma had forgotten what he was thinking in the first place. Or that he was supposed to think at all. All he'd known in that moment was that never in the history of man, nor in his most imaginative fantasies, had one been created in such immaculate form as Tezuka Kunimitsu. He'd been grateful for the freezing water then, and he'd immersed himself as deeply in the water as possible and still allow himself to breathe, however difficult it became.

He'd run out of diversions once Tezuka had called time, and with mindless obedience he'd stood out of the water. Ryoma had felt himself shiver both from the temperature change or the weight of Tezuka's gaze or both, so he'd tried to hide it by shaking his hair out. He'd hoped when he took another peek, Tezuka-buchou would be once again consulting Inui's instructions. He'd inwardly begged for the reprieve, or things would get embarrassing really fast.

When he did move his hair out of his eyes and braved another glance, Ryoma found himself unable to do anything but stare back. Tezuka-buchou was still watching him, yes, but the elder man's expression had morphed from sharp observation into…something entirely different.

Memories reeled backward, stopping eight years in the past in Japan at the tennis court below the train line. And suddenly Ryoma was a boy again, but this time he stared across the court at Tezuka-buchou with the eyes he'd gained through adulthood.

Ryoma met the eyes of his greatest opponent, his most revered role-model, his captain. He saw his own feelings reflected in those eyes, feelings that had not diminished in nearly a decade.

The fierce desire to engage in the fight, to dominate, to ultimately conquer…

The intrinsic, adrenaline-igniting fear that by accepting the battle, you faced the possibility of being conquered yourself…

The will to brave either possibility, because the regret of not trying, of not fighting, of not going after something so precious and irreplaceable was far worse than failure…

And failure just wasn't an option at all.

Ryoma's mind fast-forwarded to the present in a millisecond. He wasted no time getting out of the pool, noting subconsciously that Tezuka looked visibly startled at the swift exit. The older player looked like he was trying to regain his composure, preparing to say something to diffuse the situation.

This was a match, or a re-match, or perhaps it was _the_ match. No matter; Ryoma did not intend to lose at any cost.

Tezuka did indeed take a deep breath and open his mouth, but Ryoma cut him off with a commanding, "Don't." No other warning was offered; Ryoma wound both hands into Tezuka's hair and pulled the man down to him, commandeering Tezuka's mouth with self-proclaimed entitlement to sole and sacred possession. Tezuka gasped through his nose and his body went rigid against Ryoma's save for an initial head-to-toe quiver. Ryoma ignored it. The only thing that mattered at that moment was the combined sensations of Tezuka's heated skin grazing against his own and the discovery of something so perfect he could scarcely comprehend how he'd survived twenty years without it.

Ryoma wasn't sure which of them truly broke first or if they had done it in sync. He only knew that suddenly Tezuka wound both arms around him, crushing their bodies together and returning the embrace with uncharacteristic abandon. The battle raged; both attacked the other ruthlessly. Ryoma noted every moan Tezuka made into his mouth, recorded every weakness. Tezuka seemed to proceed the same way. Of course Ryoma knew better than to think Tezuka would allow himself to be outplayed for long.

Ryoma marveled as Tezuka's mouth finally released his and moved down the plane of his neck while the floor seemed to disappear from beneath his feet. Then it occurred to Ryoma that his feet had left the ground; Tezuka had lifted him with one arm. Ryoma didn't have time to analyze the strength the act denoted. Tezuka's free hand slipped down, pulling Ryoma's right leg up and around his waist, forcing the other to follow suit while Tezuka repositioned himself to hold him up, his teeth sliding across Ryoma's collarbone all the while. Despite the water still on his skin, the friction from the sudden adjustment left Ryoma a panting mass of unguarded nerve endings which Tezuka relentlessly sought and destroyed inch by glorious inch.

When his back met the wall causing another sudden jerk of Tezuka's body against his own, Ryoma was sure he would lose his mind then and there. Tezuka continued his epic assault, sliding Ryoma down just another to reclaim his mouth. Within the haze, Ryoma noted the current obstacle and updated the score. While he was fighting insanity with every movement of Tezuka's body against his bare skin, Tezuka still had his boxers on. Advantage: Tezuka Kunimitsu.

_To hell with that. You're hardly being fair, Buchou._

Loosening his legs, Ryoma descended suggestively until his feet were on solid ground again, grateful that Tezuka had moved them from the tile around the Jacuzzis to the plush carpeted outer area where the benches sat. He finally broke from Tezuka's demanding kiss and maneuvered just enough to sneak a glance around the taller man's chest. Even better; each bench was equipped with an attached tray displaying variety of soaps and oils for patron use. The closest bench was just within his reach, making his counterstrike almost too easy. He hid what he knew would be a damning grin against the lines along Tezuka's chest and down his stomach while his fingers relieved Tezuka of his only remaining garment.

Ryoma decided Tezuka was long due for a turn of torture, so he attacked Tezuka at his most vulnerable exposure. He was rewarded when Tezuka swore and fell against the wall for support, one hand woven into Ryoma's hair while the other held him up straight, cushioning his forehead against the marble lining the walls. Ryoma refused to give up his newfound power play and still managed to reach out and grab one of the bottles he'd scoped specifically from the nearby bench selection. Ryoma had the bottle cork pulled and tossed aside within seconds.

_Deuce._

When Ryoma did finally release Tezuka from his orally created sensual abyss a few minutes later, the taller man fell to his knees in front of Ryoma. While Tezuka was still off balance Ryoma began another assault, forcing Tezuka to shift sideways to give them both more room. Another predatory kiss and a tennis grand master's finesse stroke between Tezuka's legs left the older man squirming on his back. Ryoma only backed off for a moment, despite his desire to linger, and looked just long enough to take in the image and burn it into his permanent recall. Nothing, absolutely _nothing_ could ever be as beautiful as that. He wished he could freeze this moment, just to buy him more time to truly appreciate it.

The buck of Tezuka's hips and the animalistic rumble which escaped his chest demanded action, and Ryoma couldn't deny that request. Plus Ryoma knew if he didn't have Tezuka _right now_, he would go out of his mind.

Ryoma positioned himself above Tezuka, distracted his elder with searing kisses and nips everywhere he reached as he spread the bottle's contents on himself, leaving a liberal amount on his fingers for Tezuka. It wasn't until he began preparing Tezuka that his former captain suddenly gasped and, for the first time Ryoma could ever remember, jerked his head up. Tezuka's reservations were clear despite the rampant desire still tightening his features.

Ryoma had to stop for just a moment and realize what Tezuka's uncertainty was really about.

Ryoma fought back a snicker, knowing this was a situation he had to treat with extra care. Still, why did it not surprise him that Tezuka-buchou had never been on the receiving end? Ryoma could empathize; he rarely took that position himself, but nevertheless he had done so. And he felt certain that, despite the age difference, he was the more experienced of the two of them when it came to sex, period. For the situation at hand though…

_First time for everything, Buchou._

And Ryoma couldn't deny that there was something infinitely gratifying about being the first, the only man to ever consume the infallible Tezuka Kunimitsu so wholly and completely.

Ryoma kissed Tezuka again before heading south. He brought all tools at his disposal and focused them below Tezuka's navel. Focusing greater attention on pushing Tezuka to the brink of sensory overload, he knew it would be easier to do what he needed for his, but more especially for Tezuka's, sake. The distraction worked. Tezuka threw his head back once again, gasping, clawing at the carpet, and even doing the greatest part of Echizen's work as he rocked his hips.

Once Ryoma felt he'd done as much as he could, he brought himself back up, easing himself into place. This time though he changed the pace. He cupped one of Tezuka's feverish cheeks in his hand and kissed him thoroughly, reverently. He conveyed his intention and offered the most earnest of assurances without uttering a single word. Ryoma didn't dare speak, didn't trust his own voice at the moment for he too was overwhelmed by the resplendence of what was to come.

Tezuka trembled – actually _trembled_ – and then gave his unspoken permission after a moment of hesitation. Ryoma accepted it immediately, releasing his mouth and began gently, slowly, remaining intent on Tezuka's face. The older man's initial reaction was not unexpected. Tezuka's jaw and eyes clenched shut, and he hissed through his teeth. Despite Ryoma's near fatal desire to lose himself completely, he mastered the urge. His greatest desire was reality in flesh at the moment, and nothing in the world meant more at the moment than bringing Tezuka into this utopia with him. So Ryoma waited, aching so much it was beyond any pain he'd endured on a tennis court, until Tezuka's breath evened into manageable gasps and the man's ever penetrating eyes opened and refocused.

This time the embrace they shared was synchronously pursued and exploited; the hardest part was over. Ryoma lifted Tezuka's hips a bit more and began what seemed like a an act decreed by the gods long before their souls had met with flesh, flesh which Ryoma believed must not have been whole until it molded to and was enveloped by Tezuka. Tezuka's concern showed no more as the taller man moved with Ryoma, indicating a desire for more, demanding everything Ryoma could offer and then some, pushing him beyond anything he'd experienced before. And Ryoma obliged.

He did speak between kisses then, although Ryoma could hardly recall from one second to the next what he was saying against Tezuka's skin as he worked toward their mutual release. Maybe he confessed his transcendental view of the moment; perhaps he spoke of how completely exquisite Tezuka was by every fathomable standard; he may have just said his name over and over. He may have even admitted that he was hopelessly and utterly enamored with Tezuka, that he desired nothing less than exclusive rights to Tezuka's heavily guarded and largely unexplored soul, or that he was and may have always been in love with him.

And everything came together. He _was _in love with Tezuka. A small part of his brain recognized he should feel shocked, but then, why would he? After all who else could it ever have been but Tezuka-buchou? However that it was Tezuka also made the realization absolutely terrifying.

Every visible muscle contracted as Tezuka arched and cried out in finality, and Ryoma followed suit almost immediately thereafter. They ended in a heap of useless limbs beneath sweat and skin, physically used up and, in Ryoma's clearing mind, emotionally reeling.

**.**

**A/N: **I'm going to take author's liberties this time and talk it up for a minute now that the important stuff is out of the way. Feel free to skip this if you'd like.

First of all, I want to thank everyone who has patiently waited as I worked on this story and are still reading. I know it was frustrating when updates took almost a year, and it means more than you can imagine that many of you who started at the beginning stuck it out with me. Seriously, thank you all! Despite the warning I gave at the beginning, I still work very hard to keep my sex scenes within the R-rated bounds, so if anyone's disappointed or feels gypped in any way you'll get no apologies from me. I think it's also worth noting my pride in the timeliness of this update; I got halfway through the first draft of the chapter, hated it, and did a complete re-write, all in 4 days. Two updates in a single week; that's got to be some kind of record for me.

Also being a music junkie, I have to share the playlist I comprised which inspired this story and drove the momentum of this chapter (especially since some of these bands don't get the attention they deserve): _Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover_ – Sophie B. Hawkins, _Animal I Have Become_ – Three Days Grace, _Good Enough_ and _Lose Control_ – Evenescence, _Everything to Me_ – Liz Phair, _Ten Miles From Nowhere – _Five for Fighting, and especially _Memories _and _Forgiven – _Within Temptation. I'd recommend hitting iTunes, Yahoo or AOL music to check all of these songs out.

If all goes as planned, the next chapter will be the last. I make no promises however, as my muse and I have been going rounds lately over this kind of thing. We'll see what pans out.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Despite Tezuka's best efforts to keep his "therapy" on track, Echizen proved a difficult patient during the more mundane parts. The only aspect the younger player seemed not to complain about was the second set of creative stretches. Then again Tezuka put every single lesson he'd ever learned about pleasuring a lover into it, and despite Echizen's condition, the man's lower body was still deceptively flexible. Or maybe the therapy was already working a miracle on Echizen's over-stressed joints. It was wishful thinking, but Tezuka was almost – _almost_ – willing to believe in one.

When they returned to Tezuka's room for the bed rest part of Inui's regimen, Echizen's limp was gone and his left arm swung normally at his side. But then he shrugged off his robe, and Tezuka noticed Echizen grimace.

"Lay down," Tezuka said as he moved to his small travel case to retrieve his pajama pants. "I'll call Inui and confirm when we should meet tomorrow."

"Call him later." Echizen complied with the request to lay down but hardly looked like he intended to rest from the provocative view Tezuka got of Echizen's naked form out of the corner of his eye. Tezuka forced himself to look at the clock instead and decided Echizen, no matter his intent, might be right. It was later than he'd expected. Inui was probably asleep.

Echizen smirked as Tezuka moved to go to the bathroom. "You're not actually going in there to get dressed are you?"

Tezuka rose an eyebrow. "I was planning to, yes. However, if you would prefer, I can go to your room tonight instead."

Echizen's scowl was both nostalgic and simply...beautiful for some strange reason. "No way, Buchou. Now get your ass over here." Tezuka narrowed his eyes. "Please," Echizen added diplomatically, or as diplomatically as he figured Echizen would ever get.

Tezuka considered it for a moment, for Echizen still had made no move to cover himself, then tightened the belt holding his own robe closed. Reminding himself that his own role in Echizen's short-term recovery had long-term implications, Tezuka pushed his reservations aside. He placed the pajama pants on the nightstand and joined Echizen in bed. To Echizen's credit, and to Tezuka's surprise, Echizen didn't reach for him. He rolled from his side onto his back and made no move to cover himself as he laid his arms straight down, elbows slightly bent.

"Inui said I need to start like this. If I make a move that hurts enough to wake me up, go back to this." He turned his head and grinned. "I'm not much of a back sleeper though, so we may be up for a while."

Tezuka nodded, still trying to comprehend Echizen's sudden complicity. After several minutes of silence, Echizen gave all the explanation necessary. "We're having our match on Friday."

Tezuka's sigh came from his soul more than his lungs. "Echizen..."

"We're having our match," Echizen stated, his determination as clearly defined as if he'd been on the other end of the net. "I _need_ us to have that game, Buchou. I've waited my whole career, my whole life maybe. And I can't think of a better last game to have."

The atmosphere seemed to thin inside the hotel room, and Tezuka caught himself taking an extra deep breath. "Your tennis should not end here."

"My tennis shouldn't happen, period." Echizen snickered. "Did you know," he said, "there's a group in the UK that have studied my games against Kevin since we turned pro?" The mention of the blonde's name jarred Tezuka, but Echizen seemed not to or chose to act as though he didn't notice. "Apparently they were the second to realize our play styles were physically unsustainable. Mine a lot more than his though. The sponsors raised hell when they tried to make it public. They think it's great showmanship, and they did manage to keep it under wraps in the end."

Tezuka frowned. "I don't understand."

"They pay premium for me because people like to watch me play guys like Kevin. Radical tennis, they called in a commercial. I can't remember which one it was now..."

"But that has nothing to do with why you play in such a way," Tezuka said.

Echizen shrugged, and Tezuka caught him wince again. "That's my tennis." He closed his eyes. "That's me. It's everything I am when I can do it. It's the game you made me realize I actually had fun playing, for more reasons than just beating my dad one day."

Tezuka, despite himself, asked, "Did you?"

Echizen's eyelids opened slowly. "Beat my dad?" Tezuka nodded, although he knew the answer already. "Of course I did."

Tezuka considered that simple statement for several seconds, recalling everything he'd learned about Echizen's equally remarkable father over the years. The man himself had been an inhuman player by all standards. But his play style, unlike his son's, had been fairly conventional. Then it clicked.

"Echizen Nanjiro." Echizen cocked an eyebrow at him, so he explained. "You stated that the British researchers were the second to declare your tennis style as physically unsustainable. Your father was the first."

Echizen rewarded him with a wink. "I thought he was going to kick my ass for sure after that game. As it turned out, he didn't even tell me to tone it down."

Tezuka's curiosity peaked. "I am sure he offered advice of some sort. You are his son."

"He said, I hope he's worth it."

Tezuka didn't hide his reaction fast enough obviously. The younger man's exquisite golden eyes locked on. They dared Tezuka to show any shame or weakness beyond the surprise of hearing the statement. They left no room for speculation about whose worth Echizen had, even then, placed above everything, including his professional career. Tezuka, more than anything, knew he needed to change the younger man's mind.

"Echizen, I..."

"You are."

So simply put, yet those few word spoken firmly and with such conviction held Tezuka under a spell that would have made Fuji kneel and pay homage. And as Echizen turned his whole body toward him this time and untied his belt, Tezuka's trademark situation control couldn't compete. He wanted badly to argue the point, felt compelled to at least make the case as his former captain, his school senpai, and as a fellow player.

But their was a new reality within Tezuka's consciousness. There, in that underdeveloped realm he was consumed, thoroughly addicted, and shamefully powerless. Echizen Ryoma's tennis, that amazing, brilliant, unfathomable talent that was his tennis had belonged to the world at large. But in this place, he met an Echizen that was pure essence and belonged to no one else but him.

* * *

Inui jotted a few notes while Freddy injected Ryoma with a cortisone shot. Then the trainer went through a few standard stretches with him. Apparently satisfied but still scowling, he turned to Inui. "I'm still not sure how you managed it," he said, "but it looks like most of his range of motion is back."

Ryoma slipped off the medical cot and reached for his shirt. The cortisone was already working; he didn't even feel sore as he pulled it over his head. "I have to admit, you did good this time, Inui-senpai."

Inui nodded. "Your progress is consistent with my calculations. I was concerned your left shoulder would not respond to the treatment as quickly, so I'm pleased with the overall result."

Ryoma finished dressing and took a minute to flex his left hand. "I'll be ready tomorrow," he stated more to himself than anyone in the room. But Freddy looked like he was ready to punch him out.

Inui just smiled. "I see. So the negotiations are already over."

Ryoma smirked. "You didn't think I was going to lose this one, did you?" It diminished however as Inui's expression betrayed a mixture of envy and regret.

"I never predict that you will lose, Echizen. I did, just this once though, hope you might."

He pretended Inui's words didn't bother him as he collected his new day's regimen and made a swift exit before Freddy could really lay into him. Freddy, for all his good intentions, couldn't understand his reasons or his feelings, and he especially wouldn't condone putting the two together. He knew two people other than Inui-senpai who would understand though. And is it turned out, he had unfinished business with both of them.

Fuji's room was just down the hall, and Ryoma figured that talking to Fuji would be a lot easier than what would be coming with Kevin.

"Come in," came the sing-song call and the door cracked open. Ryoma accepted the invitation but caught himself engrossed for a few seconds too long as Fuji's lithe form, covered only by a towel wrapped low on his hips, practically floated to the sofa on the other end of the room. He'd obviously just gotten out of the shower, and his normally silky hair clung to his cheeks and neck. When Fuji turned to face him, Ryoma caught himself staring at several purple and pink marks along Fuji's otherwise pale skin.

Fuji sat down demurely, giving him time to shake himself out of the hickey inspired hypnosis, and looked at the door. "Is Tezuka not with you?"

"He's got a match this afternoon, so he's getting ready."

"Of course." Fuji smiled. "Please, sit. You look so much better today, Echizen. I was worried sick all night if you must know." Upon Echizen's very obvious second look at the proof of Fuji's lovemaking the night before, Fuji amended it to, "Well, most of the night."

He didn't need to know, and the guilty feeling Inui had planted in his gut grew roots. Still, there was no point in putting it off. "I'm playing the match with Tezuka-buchou tomorrow."

There it was again. The jealousy. The look of mourning. "I assumed that's how it would turn out. Even Tezuka cannot deny you the one thing you've wanted for so long. I'd at least hoped he would hold out a little longer though. Or perhaps allow all of us to discuss it together. But more than anything," he continued, his voice becoming even more melodic, "we all love you, Echizen. There is nothing more important to all of us than your happiness. Even your dear friend Kevin agrees with that."

The guilt grew a little more. "Why do I get the feeling you helped to convince him?"

Fuji shrugged, a suggestive little gesture that made Ryoma shiver. "He was so very lonely last night."

_Oh hell..._ "You shouldn't mess with him like that, Fuji-senpai. I can handle Kevin."

Fuji's demeanor morphed subtly, but Ryoma suspected Fuji was about to go tensei on him. And Fuji didn't disappoint.

"Your friend does not need your apologies or the confirmation of what he already knows. And really, what would you say to him? It is difficult, you see, to remain by the side of someone who loves another, but it's impossible to break free of that person when your heart is theirs and they are too kind and too cruel to push it away." The hypnotic blue eyes hardened. "Neither you nor Tezuka have ever endured that. You cannot comprehend the way such feelings whittle away at your self-respect and your simple definition of self."

Ryoma tried to swallow, attempted to speak. His throat was too dry and Fuji had apparently stolen his argument with the damning spell song.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, Fuji's body seemed to relax. "Let me comfort Kevin Smith. Let Kevin Smith comfort me. He wants nothing more than that right now, and I surely wouldn't mind the company for a while longer. And after we begin to heal each other..." Fuji smiled. "Who knows what may come later?"

Ryoma took several minutes to digest it all. Fuji really knew how to plant a worm in the brain, but still he knew, somehow, that Fuji's overall intentions were both genuine and in good conscience. And for that he was grateful. He could hardly match Fuji with words, so he conveyed his acceptance the best way he knew how. He leaned over, took Fuji's delicate chin into his hand, and kissed him deeply one last time.

Fuji seemed to understand, or pretended to. Or maybe he was just being polite. Ryoma wasn't sure, but his former teammate responded in kind with no more and no less than what was offered. And when Ryoma pulled away, Fuji was smiling.

"You should hurry," Fuji said after a pause. "You wouldn't want to miss their game, would you?"

Ryoma huffed. "I would, but I've got more rehabilitation to deal with, and it's not like I don't know how it'll turn out."

Fuji tilted his head. "I'm surprised. I thought you of all people would want to watch this match. It is, after all, against the only other player who's defeated you recently."

Ryoma's mind reeled. He'd been so caught up in...well...everything else, he'd completely omitted every other detail about the day except its relation to his match with Tezuka tomorrow. But today was Thursday. Prior to his reunion with Tezuka, there was only one thing he'd looked forward to during this exhibition, and that was Tezuka's afternoon match up for Thursday.

Tezuka's match that was scheduled against Kevin Smith.

Fuji was kind enough not to mention how dense he was. He simply waved his hand towards the door and said, "Go."

* * *

Tezuka hadn't known what to expect from his game with Kevin Smith. In addition to that, he'd intentionally not reminded Echizen who his opponent was for his game that day. In part, he preferred Echizen focus on his own situation rather than get caught up in a match between his current and former lover. Or Tezuka assumed Kevin was now Echizen's former, although they hadn't specifically said as much. He took note and filed it away; they would certainly have to make that point clear.

The other reason was more base and infinitely more selfish. Echizen had played Kevin Smith many times. Tezuka had not. And he wanted to. Naturally he had wanted to test himself against Echizen's strongest rival all along. He needed no comparison between the two. Tezuka accepted that Kevin Smith was his own player with his own strengths. He desired this game not to test his skills before his match the following day. What he needed, what rubbed like sandpaper against his principles, was that he required affirmation.

In his core, Tezuka himself needed to know that he was the stronger than Kevin Smith. If he was not, then he had no right to play the game which would steal Echizen from professional tennis forever.

He finished a rigorous warm-up and made his way to the center court. Whether it was due to his increased notoriety from his debut and current sweep, or if it was the buzz surrounding the previous and future matches involving Echizen, the arena which had been filled to half or less for most matches was filled to capacity as he walked onto the clay. That was understandable and something Tezuka took in stride. Sixth sense or habit brought his eyes to the VIP box once again.

Tezuka had expected Inui and Fuji to attend in the two spots he'd reserved. Inui took his appointed place, but Tezuka hardly noticed. He'd been hijacked by Echizen's vicarious glare. And when those golden globes slid sideways several breathless moments later, Tezuka found himself looking over as well.

Kevin Smith looked to Echizen, then to Tezuka, then back to Echizen one more time. The blond's mouth tightened into a grim line and he stalked to his side of the court.

Tezuka knew most matches began with an introductory exchange and fell into rhythm as the game progressed. This was not most matches.

It took milliseconds as Tezuka watched the final shot of the game, his only service ace on the last point of the 33-35 tiebreak, and analyze what had truly occurred beyond the 7-6 score. Kevin Smith had played to save Echizen's career. The American had devoted everything, absolutely _everything,_ to that single game. He had played for his own dignity. He had chased redemption and had fought relentlessly to the very last minute to capture it. Kevin Smith had laid his soul bare and wagered it all on this single match. Tezuka suspected, no matter their personal issues, that he had found his own new career rival.

But the result, for this day, for this match on which so much had been staked, was the same.

Kevin Smith had been defeated.

For only the third time in memory, his or anyone else's, Tezuka cried out from the depths of his soul in his victory - "_YES!_" And then he dropped, with little of his typical decorum he would later realize, right on his ass as the tension and adrenaline vanished.

Tezuka lost track of how long he sat there, but then a pair of clay caked tennis shoes came into his vision. He looked up, unflinching, into the painfully diminished but still fiery blue eyes of his opponent. And he offered his hand. Kevin stared at it for a moment, then shook it very deliberately.

"I lost."

"You... were brilliant. Thank you."

Kevin's Adam's apple bobbed a few times as though he was choking. Clearly the young player was slowly losing a war with his grief. And then another voice cut through the din of the applause and shouts.

"Kevin!"

Both of them looked as Echizen, taking his turn to break general protocol, came onto the court. Tezuku took a deep breath and watched as Echizen moved straight to Kevin Smith, grabbed a handful of the man's bangs, and rammed their foreheads together. It was a good display of Echizen's renewed mobility, but the look the two shared was so intense, so profound from his front row vantage point, Tezuka knew he should look away. Yet he remained transfixed on the pair and saw Kevin's first tear fall from his chin.

"You," Echizen growled, "better give him hell every chance you get on the court from now on. Every time. Promise me."

More tears found their way down Kevin Smith's cheeks. He nodded once, firmly and in purest commitment. Echizen, looking satisfied, released the blond's hair. Kevin remained long enough to clear his vision and then he was gone.

Tezuka regarded Echizen from below. "You have ensured there will be a great deal of excitement for our match." Echizen's brow furrowed. "At the very least, you have made it appear as though you will be ready for tomorrow."

Echizen shrugged. "Either they'll assume yesterday was a fluke or tomorrow's gonna be a massacre. Not that it matters. They'll have other stuff to report besides whether or not I'm injured." He then offered his right hand – Tezuka allowed a minute bemused grin at the gesture – and hauled Tezuka to his feet finally.

Tezuka opened his mouth to thank him, and instead had it dominated by Echizen's own before he could counteract it. And then he saw Echizen's logic; this would certainly garner more speculation than anything they did with a racket. Tezuka knew only days earlier, he would have been mortified at the brazen display. Now however, it felt in perfect accord with the moment. When they broke, Echizen grinned.

"You're mine now, Buchou. Like it or not, you're stuck with me for good."

"We still have our match."

For a moment, just one brief but heartbreaking moment for Tezuka, Echizen's face betrayed a hint of uncertainty. Just a shadow, and for no longer than it took him to huff it out of his system. "Sure we do. But I'm kinda crazy about you, and I know you've got to feel the same way if you let me kiss you in front of a few tens of thousands of people. Is who wins our game going to change that?"

Tezuka pulled Echizen against him and moved the man's face upward to his own. Oddly, he felt as though he as answering his own question along with Echizen's. "Absolutely not."

**The End**

* * *

A/N: First of all, this is kind of embarrassing. I just realized it's been almost four years since I wrote what was meant to be the second-to-last chapter of this story. Secondly I had to reread my own fic before deciding, a) this one was worth finishing, and b) I was overdue to wrap this one up by...almost four years. So forgive me for wasting a little time now to make a few notes.

To new readers, or ones like me who don't start a story until it's tagged complete: I began this fic in 2006. There was no National Championship yet (or they may have started it in the manga but it was early on and many of us ignored it at the time), let alone the second actual series that came out this year. My intention was never to go against the canon; it simply wasn't available yet, and I chose – then and now – to stick with the premise with which I began.

And to those who thought 's notification tool glitched when you got word of an update, or those who read this and forgot it and just happened to come back and look after this new series wrapped up: I love you guys. I'm not kidding. I don't care if you never reviewed the story. I don't care if you still want to flog me for the ridiculous wait time. Thank you, truly, for coming back. Since moving to original fiction and publishing my first novel, I never forgot those of you who read my works while I polished my skills and worked up my nerve right here on . I hope finishing this, despite the delay, help convey how grateful I am.


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